


Dragons

by Oakwyrm



Series: Training Dragons in TI [10]
Category: Thrilling Intent (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - How to Train Your Dragon Fusion, Brief Dysphoria Mention, Disaster Gays, F/F, Family, Injury, M/M, Multi, Not Really Character Death, Pining, Regret, Trans Gregor, Trans Zalvetta
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-01 03:48:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13286361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oakwyrm/pseuds/Oakwyrm
Summary: Gregor has known one thing his entire life, dragons are to be feared and hated. He never questioned this, they took one of his fathers from him before he was old enough to properly remember him. Of course he hated them. It was only natural. Except it's not and it's really a pity that it took a life or death situation for him to figure that out.





	1. Chapter I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's This. Finally. I've been planning this for such a long time. As evidenced by that this is actually the 10th fic in this series I believe.

Life on the Isle of Berk. Interesting, in a word. It was also dangerous, death-defying, and not without risk of being burned alive. So why not add a few more death-defying stunts just for the fun of it? That, in short summary, was why Gregor was currently clinging to the side of the sea stack, quickly making his way further towards the top.

“Need some help?” Zalvetta called, poking his head over the side of the sea stack to watch as Gregor made his way up. Gregor’s only response was a light laugh as he sped up his ascent. A few moments later he was pulling himself up onto the top of the sea stack. Zalvetta grinned. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“Yeah,” Gregor grinned, looking back towards Berk. The watch fires were out, naturally, seeing as the sun was still high in the sky. Even the two of them knew not to climb the sea stacks in darkness. Still, that didn’t make the view of Berk any less amazing. Cliffs rose out of the sea while waves crashed against them, wearing away at them ever so slightly, bit by bit. Dark forests of evergreen crawled over every surface they could get a hold on, and of course, there was the village itself. Perched high up with a good view of the surrounding sea. It was a stubborn little settlement that would not crumble to the continuous dragons raids and the merciless weather conditions. It had remained where it had been for over a hundred years and would remain for hundreds more if the inhabitants had any say in the matter.

“Hey Gregor,” Zalvetta poked his side and his attention snapped back to the moment. “Weird to think it’ll all be yours someday?” he nodded at Berk. Gregor bit his lip, fidgeting with the old necklace he now wore as a bracelet, the one Zeke had made for him when he was a child.

“It won’t be mine I’ll just be the Chief,” he said, his eyes flicking down towards the docks where the fishing crews were hauling in the day’s catch. “I just wish my dad would trust me enough to teach me anything about leading the village.”

“I don’t think trust’s the issue,” Zalvetta said, leaning back and fixing his eyes on Gregor’s face. Gregor stared down at what seemed to be a fixed point the water below them.

“Maybe...” he sounded doubtful. Zalvetta sighed and got to his feet, dusting himself off and looking around for something to change the subject.

“Hey. I bet I could jump to that one.” He pointed to a nearby sea stack. Gregor squinted. The distance didn’t look entirely unmanageable.

“Are you sure?” he asked. Zalvetta raised his eyebrows, putting on his best look of false offence.

“Is that a challenge?” he asked. Gregor laughed and honestly, who had decided to give him such a pretty laugh? Unfortunately, Zalvetta didn’t have much time at the moment to contemplate that particular unfair factor in life. Gregor was talking again.

“Should it be?” he asked. In answer, Zalvetta merely smirked before taking a running start and springing over. The gap was sizeable but he did it, landing with a kind of ease that only came from absolute sure-footedness. Gregor smiled and jumped after him, landing neatly beside him.

Zalvetta sat down cross-legged and Gregor followed suit. They lapsed into a companionable silence as Gregor pulled out a small bag of dried fruit and offered it to Zalvetta. They watched Berk together, as the trading ships came in after the fishing crews. People rushed down to the docks to greet them. Doubtless, Thog and Markus were there to see Moren again, though at the distance Gregor and Zalvetta were watching from, it was impossible to tell people apart.

“Your dad’s gonna notice you’re not in the village soon,” Zalvetta observed casually, popping another piece of dried fruit into his mouth. Gregor fixed his eyes in the direction of the small hill that held the Chief’s house.

“He’s probably already noticed,” he said, shrugging slightly.

“Do you want to head back?” Zalvetta asked, turning to look at Gregor. Gregor frowned, still staring at the hill, and Zalvetta could practically see his thoughts milling about, trying to figure out what was the best option.

“Yeah,” he said after a moment, “I don’t want to worry him too much.” Gregor sprang to his feet quickly, jumping back to the first sea stack and beginning his descent towards the little boat they had used to get themselves out to the sea stacks in the first place. Zalvetta followed without much trouble.

They stayed for a moment, watching the docks before Gregor finally untied the boat and took up the oars. He rowed their way back towards a small, secluded beach, moving in a way that spoke of effortless strength and much experience. Zalvetta leaned back slightly, watching Berk grow steadily closer until they hit the beach they had made their own. Gregor leapt out of the boat with a quick spring, landing in the shallow water and sending a splash in Zalvetta’s direction.

“Oh. Sorry,” Gregor said, looking at Zalvetta, who returned his stare for a moment. In a move somewhat reminiscent of a cat’s effortless grace he sprang out of the boat and landed in the water. He swept his hand through it and sent a small splash directly at Gregor’s face.

“We’re even,” he said as Gregor pushed his now wet hair out of his face. He laughed and grabbed a hold of the boat, beginning to pull it ashore. Zalvetta grabbed onto the aft and pushed. Together the two of them made quick work of setting it back in its usual spot, tied to a sturdy rock and suitably far from the shore. With that done they began their walk back to the village.

Gregor ran in front, speeding up through the gently sloping cave that led up off the beach into the forest. Inside plants crawled across the walls and stubborn, wiry bushes grew, growing greener and healthier the closer they were to either end. They emerged from behind a pair of thick bushes and Gregor paused for a moment, turning to Zalvetta and picking a leaf from his hair. How Gregor managed to always move through the underbrush without getting half of the forest attached to him Zalvetta wasn’t entirely sure.

“How bad is it?” he asked as he brushed some small broken branches and more fallen leaves from his shoulders. Gregor hummed an unconcerned sound as he sat down, patting the ground in front of him. Zalvetta sat down without protest as Gregor produced a comb from his bag. Gently he undid Zalvetta’s side braid so he could better get at the forest debris that seemed to gravitate towards him.

“Maybe it’s because your hair’s so soft,” Gregor mused aloud as he picked a twig out of Zalvetta’s hair, flicking it aside and continuing his work. Zalvetta opened his mouth to answer, and closed it again, finding he couldn’t think of a proper reply. “So the forest wants to be close to you.” Zalvetta could hear the smile in Gregor’s words.

“I’m sure your hair’s also soft,” he said finally.

“Not as soft as yours.” Gregor removed the final leaf and ran the comb through Zalvetta’s hair a few more times before redoing the braid.

“Thanks,” Zalvetta said, absent-mindedly running his fingers over the braid. Gregor smiled.

“No problem.” He got to his feet, pulling Zalvetta along with him.

The forest around them was alive with birdsong as they made their way back towards the village. Little creatures skittered around the forest floor. Gregor took Zalvetta’s hand and hurried their steps along the familiar path. It wasn’t long before they reached the edge of the village.

As if on cue as they emerged from the forest, Kyrlos came running up the hill.

“Gregor, my boy! There you are,” he grinned. “I’ve been looking for you, your new halberd’s done.”

Gregor looked at Zalvetta, a huge grin spreading across his features. Zalvetta smiled fondly and let go of his hand. “See you later,” he said before taking off down the path towards Horaven’s house. Gregor walked down the hill to Kyrlos.

“You almost had me worried there,” Kyrlos said, taking hold of Gregor’s shoulders and looking him over for any kind of injury. Of course, the “almost” in that sentence was a lie, Gregor knew that well enough.

“I’m fine, dad,” he said, ducking out from Kyrlos’ grip. “Zalvetta was with me.” Kyrlos nodded thoughtfully, looking down the path Zalvetta had gone.

“He’s a good kid. Weird and a little unnerving sometimes, but I’m glad you’ve got him.”

Gregor gave his father a confused look, but any answer as to where that comment had come from got swept away as Kyrlos steered their steps towards the house and Gregor’s waiting halberd.

* * *

With a sigh, Kyrlos sat down on one of the benches in Dao’s workshop. “He was climbing the sea stacks again, wasn’t he?”

Dao didn’t even look up from his work.

“Most likely,” he answered in his usual quiet tone. “He reminds me of you at that age.”

“I wish he didn’t.” Kyrlos leaned back against the wall, eyes fixed on a blank spot in the ceiling. “Well, at least he and Zalvetta are friends.”

“You and Zeke were also friends,” Dao pointed out.

Kyrlos laughed. “Yeah but that took us a while, didn’t it?” Dao sent him a flat look, putting down the broken sword he was examining. Of course, Dao knew it had taken time, he’d been the poor sod stuck watching their relationship develop from the sidelines. Kyrlos shifted somewhat awkwardly.

“Did he like the new halberd?” Dao finally spoke, turning back to his work. Kyrlos breathed a sigh of relief, silently thanking him for the change of subject.

“Haven’t seen his eyes light up like that in a while,” he said. Dao frowned.

“Maybe you’d see it more often if you’d start teaching him what he needs to know. He’s old enough to be responsible for himself, you know.” Kyrlos tugged at the hem of his sleeve in thought.

“I know,” he said, a distinct tone of reluctance in his voice.

“Then you should do something about it,” Dao said. His tone was calm as ever but Kyrlos had known him long enough to catch on to the seriousness lingering underneath it.

A loud clatter and a yelp in the next room over made the two of them look up. Kyr stumbled into the doorway, a slightly awkward look on his face as he glanced at them. Kyrlos wondered for a brief second if he’d been listening to their conversation and if he had, whether he would tell Gregor about it or not.

“Can I have my teacher back for a sec, Chief?” Kyr asked. Dao set down his tools and walked over, not even waiting for Kyrlos to give a reply.

Kyrlos chuckled, getting to his feet and walking out of the smithy. He glanced up at the dark, rain-heavy cloud cover, but paid it no mind. He still had things that needed doing, and no rain was going to put a stop to that. He turned his steps towards the farms at the edge of the village where he was needed to settle a dispute.

It would be Gregor’s job, someday. He sighed, raising his hand to touch the ring he wore on a thin chain around his neck. Dao was right, as he usually was. Yes, he was right. That didn’t mean Kyrlos had to like it.

* * *

Firi frowned, tapping the end of her pen against the side of her journal as she stared out over the ocean. Her journal was open to the chapter on Gronckles, much of it copied from the Book of Dragons, but filled with her own notes and questions. She frowned at the horizon, trying to put the puzzle pieces in place, but no matter what she did they didn’t seem to fit.

“Firi! Firi, hi!” She was abruptly jolted back to reality by Gregor’s voice as he called to her. She turned and watched him as he speed-walked up to her.

“Did Dao finish your new halberd?” she asked, guessing at the most likely reason for the extra spring in his step.

“Yeah, it’s really good.” He sat down cross-legged next to her, glancing at the journal that still lay open on her lap.

“Of course it is, Dao made it himself,” she said.

“True.” Gregor laid down, staring up at the sky, currently a blanket of grey that promised rain to come. “Gronckles again?” he asked, gesturing to Firi’s journal. Firi nodded.

“The way I see it there has to be some other reason for them joining the raids.” She frowned down at her journal. “Even if they prefer eating fish or sheep, they can eat rocks, why put themselves in unnecessary danger?”

Gregor shrugged. “Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters,” Firi said, a slight tone of annoyance in her voice. They’d had this conversation before. “It means there’s something going on that we’re not seeing.”

“And if there is? What can we do about it?” he asked. She shrugged and closed he journal with a sigh.

“They’re amazing creatures,” she said, looking down at him.

“I know. Most of them also breathe fire,” he said. Firi laughed.

“And those who don’t spit acid or boiling water or destructive walls of sound.” Gregor nodded.

The sound of soft footsteps approaching made them pause for a second. “What’d I miss?” Ashe sat herself down next to Firi with ease, pausing for a moment to give her a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Gronckles again,” Firi said, leaning against Ashe.

“For what it’s worth I think you’re right. Not sure what we can do about it but I think you’re right.”

Gregor snorted. “And there’s absolutely no bias there, right?” he asked, looking up at Ashe with an amused expression.

“Nope, definitely not,” Ashe agreed, a small smile tugging at her lips as well. Firi smiled, and a serene kind of quiet fell over the three. The air around them felt heavy and the world was silent. A gentle breeze blew past them, barely even strong enough to tug at the pages of Firi’s journal. The world waited in a quiet calm for the rain.

“Think that’ll last until tomorrow?” Gregor asked. Ashe frowned at the clouds for a moment.

“Nooo? No, I don’t think so,” she decided. Gregor sighed, a frown crossing his face. The first notable drop of rain fell without ceremony straight onto his forehead.

“We can always hope,” Firi said. Gregor nodded absently, still staring at the sky until a second and third drop of rain fell.

“I’m gonna head inside.” He got to his feet. Firi nodded, packing her journal into her waterproof bag along with her writing tools and a couple dragon scales Gregor hadn’t noticed previously.

“See you tomorrow,” she called after him.

“Hopefully no sooner,” he called back. She laughed lightly, pulling Ashe up along with her as she stood up. All around them the rest of Berk was speedily getting indoors. Things that had to remain out of doors but couldn’t get wet had long since been tightly covered up. Gregor turned back to his path and hurried his steps.

The first proper shower started before he reached the door, a sudden downfall of rain hit like Thor had decided to dump a bucket on his head. He broke into a run but it wasn’t near enough to spare him.

He stepped into the warmth of his home looking like someone had just pushed him into the sea.

Quickly he shook himself off as well as he could, beginning to peel his wet tunic off his person. He glanced briefly around the room and found it empty, his father nowhere to be seen. It was normal for Kyrlos to be out late, especially if something in the village needed his attention, so Gregor didn’t think anything of it. He kicked off his shoes and headed for the stairs up to the attic which served half as storage space, half as his room.

The most urgent thing on his mind was to make sure the window hatch was secure and that it wouldn’t let in any rain. Once he was satisfied that it wouldn’t he wrung his tunic out as best he could above the wash basin that was stored in the corner. The sound of heavy drops of rain falling against the roof surrounded him as he worked, accompanied by the occasional creak of wood and the sound of his own footsteps.

Within the next ten minutes, he was sat in front of a newly burning fire in fresh clothes. His hair was left unbraided to let it dry faster. His wet clothes were drying above the wash basin and the fire had caught well. He probably wouldn’t have to fight with it to keep it alive. Now if only Ashe was wrong and the rain would only last the night.

The door swung open abruptly and Kyrlos hurried inside, holding his cloak above his head to shield himself from the rain. He had somehow managed to stay a little dryer than Gregor, despite being out longer.

“Think it’ll last?” Gregor asked, more for conversation than curiosity, once Kyrlos had hung up his cloak and shaken off much of the rain.

“No, I think Thor has a clear night planned for us.” Kyrlos looked around the house, taking note of what Gregor had already done and what more needed doing. “Might get to use that new halberd of yours sooner than you thought, eh?” Gregor’s head snapped up, Kyrlos’ words caught him by surprise. It wasn’t like him to be actively encouraging Gregor to be involved in any battle, let alone a dragon raid.

“Yeah.” He grinned, shaking off the weirdness of the comment. Kyrlos smiled sadly, ruffling Gregor’s hair as he walked past him on the way to the cupboards in the back of the room. Outside thunder rolled menacingly in the distance.

* * *

The storm lasted far into the night, but not far enough. The moon was high in a clear sky when Gregor woke to the familiar noise of horns being blown in warning. He scrambled out of bed as quickly as possible, pausing only briefly to pull on proper clothing and tie his hair out of the way. Without even having to look he grabbed his halberd from its customary resting place and sprinted down the stairs.

His father was already up and striding out the door, bow in hand and quiver filled with arrows. Gregor ran out behind him, joining the majority of the island’s residents in the tense silence as they peered into the night sky, waiting, holding their breath and looking for something to shoot at.

The first dragon descended on the village with a roar, its body lighting up as it landed on a roof. In an instant, the noise was deafening. Net catapults were fired, war cries rose up from the ground but more dragon calls answered from the sky. Gregor took off down the hill in the direction he’d seen a familiar figure dart.

“Morning Zalvetta!” he called as he ducked around the Nadder in his path, seeing the net already flying through the air towards her. Zalvetta glanced back at him for a moment.

“Morning!” he called in return before continuing his chase after a Hideous Zippleback. Gregor took a brief moment to admire Zalvetta’s swift movements as he drenched the correct Zippleback head and send the dragon tumbling with a swift and precise strike to each head. He looked more like he had just rolled out of bed than Gregor did, but that was usually the case during dragon raids. There wasn’t much time to make yourself presentable when it came to attacks in the middle of the night.

“Incoming!” Thog’s voice made Gregor turn just in time to roll out of the way of a swiftly falling Gronckle caught in a net. “Hi Gregor, move it.” Thog came running close on its heels.

“Ignore him, he’s just mad ‘cause he’s tired.” Markus stopped next to Gregor, ducking into cover. Gregor gave Markus a look of mild suspicion.

“Shouldn’t you be with the other healers?” he asked. Markus nodded, surveying their surroundings for the clearest path through the chaos.

“Yeah, I’m trying to get to the great hall,” he said. A loud explosion next to them made them jump and Gregor quickly ducked in next to Markus.

“I think between those houses?” he pointed in the direction of a thin but clear passage. “Good luck.” Markus nodded sharply and took off down the more sheltered path while Gregor moved into the open again. A flock of Terrors zoomed past him, each carrying a fish in its claws. Gregor ignored them, they were out of range and he didn’t have his bow on hand. Besides, Terrors were almost harmless. As harmless as a dragon could get, anyway.

He glanced back at Markus’ quickly retreating figure before darting forwards into the fray, looking for somewhere he could help. Gronckles were a no, his halberd was nowhere near sharp enough to do anything to their tough hides. A Nadder or a Zippleback perhaps-

Gregor’s attention snapped away from the field as a Monstrous Nightmare flew right over his head. He turned his steps, grip tightening on his halberd. A quick glance around confirmed for him that Kyrlos was on the other side of the village. His heartbeat pounded in his ears. If he could bring the Nightmare down on his own... Really, if he could bring any dragon down on his own it would be good, but a Nightmare.

He made a move to follow.

“We need more hands on the catapults!” Gregor’s head snapped in the direction of the call. He wavered for a moment, eyes going to the Monstrous Nightmare. It pained him to do so, but with a wrench, he pulled himself away. There would be other chances, the catapults were always more important. He wove quickly through the chaos, coming to a halt at the nearest catapult within seconds.

Someone, he didn’t have the time or focus to register who, helped him up onto it and before he knew much of anything he was swept into the workflow of maintenance and defence. They had all had the same training, everyone knew what to do and where to be to keep the thing safe and working. Gregor soon found himself up top, loading heavy rocks into the sling while people nearby fended off the dragons that flew in closer. His arms were beginning to tire, but he paid them no mind. He allowed himself a single quick glance towards the horizon, looking for some sign of the dawn.

The stars blinked out. Gregor paused, frowning up at the sky. The catapult sent another shot out against an incoming dragon, missing only by a hair’s breadth but Gregor paid that no mind. In the darkness of the sky, he saw something else. A shadow against the stars. It was a brief moment, only a few seconds. Short enough that is could have been his imagination. He wished it had been his imagination.

“Night Fury!” the warning shout seemed to ring clear even through the chaos of battle, the warning everyone feared hearing. Gregor instinctively reached for his halberd but before he could even get a hold of it the floor fell out underneath him. The catapult collapsed with one well-placed, far too bright, shot. Heat rushed up to meet him, fire rising quickly, too quickly to quench. In a desperate bid to save himself, he reached out, grasping for something to hold on to. Any piece of the catapult that might still be standing.

His fingers closed around something. He didn’t have time to recognize what. The world seemed to be falling out around him. Spots danced before his eyes, the brightness of the blast still lighting up the world around him. The wind tugged at his hair and clothes. Something was off, he thought, but he was far too disoriented to think about it. It wouldn’t matter, anyway. Any second now he’d either hit the side of the cliff or the sea below.

* * *

As quickly as they had arrived, the dragons drew back, their prey captured, their goal reached. Zalvetta stumbled backwards, the sudden silence that fell over the island seemed almost to ring louder in his ears than the sound of battle had. It lasted only for a second, shouts for help, healers, and water to put out the fires started up. To Zalvetta’s ears, it seemed as if he was listening in on them from a great distance. His eyes were fixed on the smouldering wreckage of the catapult.

People were hurrying over to help, dousing the fires, pulling others to safety. He could see Markus flitting about, taking account of the injuries. Kyl’il was directing the other healers, taking the most gravely injured to the great hall for emergency treatment. Zalvetta could feel his heartbeat in his ears as his eyes scanned the survivors for a familiar red tunic.

“Where is he?” Kyrlos’ voice cut through the fog laid over Zalvetta’s brain, bringing him back to reality with a sharp and painful tug. “Where’s my son!?”

His voice carried far, the note of panic clear to everyone. The person he was talking to looked helpless. Zalvetta didn’t need to hear her reply, he already knew. They hadn’t found him. They would never find him, not if he’d fallen off the cliff. The water was too deep and the waves too strong. Even if they hadn’t been the cliffs were too tall. There was no way-

Zalvetta felt sick. On instinct, he went to hold on to his necklace. His hand closed around nothing, the necklace was still sitting on a bench in Xin’s house. It couldn’t stay there. He got to his feet slowly, turning and running straight into someone. A large and familiar figure looked down at him, concern and sad understanding in his eyes. Coming from anyone else Zalvetta would have hated it.

“Let’s go home,” Horaven’s voice was mild and quiet. Zalvetta nodded silently, but his eyes flickered in Xin’s direction. Horaven gently patted his shoulder. “I’ll get your necklace for you.” Zalvetta felt a small rush of relief within the otherwise overwhelming numbness. He followed Horaven in silence. Others rushed past them, going to some task that needed attention, but slowly, as ever, things were calming down.

They passed Xin’s house and Zalvetta opened Horaven’s door, heading in a beeline for the bed of furs that was waiting for him on one of the benches along the wall. It was there for him any time when he didn’t feel like sleeping at Xin’s place. So, most nights. Horaven disappeared back out the door but Zalvetta couldn’t wait for him to return. Exhaustion swept over him like a great wave. He sunk into the furs without protest. He felt heavy like he could have sunk further, into the very earth if he tried.

He didn’t cry, not yet, he was too tired and too numb to do so. Instead, he let his exhaustion descend on him and pull him down into a thankfully dreamless slumber.

Outside, people quietly went back to their homes, some joining friends while their own houses were repaired. The silence that slowly fell over Berk seemed unnatural, heavier than usual. The light of a cheerless dawn brushed against the horizon.

Down by the destroyed catapult, Dao and Kyl’il pulled Kyrlos gently to his feet and lead him back to a house that all of a sudden seemed too cold and too quiet.


	2. Chapter II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone Deals With Shit. Zalvetta throws inanimate objects at other inanimate objects that probably don't deserve it. Gregor tries to keep himself together in more ways than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well would you look at that it finally continues finally.

It was a beautiful morning. A cool but not cold kind of air hung around the island. Sunlight glittered on the lakes and rivers and the last traces of morning fog were receding. It should, by all accounts, have been a pleasant morning. But, of course, the weather can’t make up for everything.

Gregor was in pain. That was the first thing he noticed. The second was that he was most definitely alive. He was pretty sure of that. Granted he’d never been dead so he had no idea what the welcome into an afterlife was supposed to feel like. Hopefully, it wasn’t quite this painful.

He breathed out slowly. Pain radiated from his left shoulder and ankle. So he did what he’d been trained to do, he focused on other parts of himself, small distraction or irritations. He focused on other things to let the most severe pain drain a bit so he could hopefully deal with what was causing it. There was something poking him in the side. It felt like a root of some kind. He focused on that feeling of mild discomfort until the pain became manageable.

Finally, he opened his eyes. He didn’t immediately recognize his surroundings but he pushed aside that worry for more immediate ones. He moved his good arm to examine the shoulder in more detail. It wasn’t very hard to figure out what was wrong. He winced as he felt around the dislocated joint but his disorientation worked in his favour. He knew what to do but the implications of his situation had not yet set in well enough to make him panic or tense up.

He relaxed his shoulder as best he could. Even if he were in a position where he could get help from others, if he was tense it wouldn’t work. He couldn’t weigh down the arm, he didn’t have anywhere he could lie down and let it hang and he had nothing heavy enough to hold on to. He had no one else to help him so pulling was also a no go. Carefully he looked around, extending his good arm the measure his surroundings. Thankfully he had enough room. His movements were slow and careful, as he had been taught when he was still in training. He raised his arm above his head, palm facing the sky, as far as he could go towards his other shoulder without forcing anything.

With a loud pop, his shoulder slid back into place. He breathed a sigh of relief as the worst of the pain rushed out of his system, leaving only a duller more manageable version behind. He sat up slowly, using his good arm to steady himself.

His ankle was definitely sprained. He figured that out within seconds of focusing his attention on it. He quietly mourned the fact that he had not had enough time that morning to put on any leg wraps. They could have made a decent enough bandage. He shook his head. What-ifs and should-haves were of no use to him right now. They weren’t really of use to anyone ever but that was something he also didn’t have time to ponder at that moment.

His hand went to his belt. A rush of relief eased some more of his worry as he felt the small knife that still hung there. Of course, it would be useless against anything but a harmless forest critter, but at least he had it.

Once his ankle and shoulder dealt with, he got his third and so far worst revelation of the morning when he looked up to take stock of his surroundings. Upon closer inspection, he did recognize where he was. An abrupt dip in the land surrounded on all sides by steep cliffs with a glistening lake at its centre. He had been there a couple times before and he knew from experience that under normal circumstances he would be able to climb out easily.

He wasn’t even that far from the village. Within easy walking distance. Not that they would think to look for him, and if they did they would be looking in the wrong place. He stared up at the sky, which looked even more unreachable when viewed from beneath a cliff-face crowned by high-reaching pines. The first light of day was slowly fading to a clearer blue. His attention was not, however, on the familiar nature surrounding him. His mind was far too caught up in trying to untangle and make sense of his current situation.

Everyone probably thought he was dead. That realisation hurt. Almost on instinct, his hand went to his bracelet. He traced the familiar shape of the dragons and the indented lines at the centre of the obsidian runestone that was the rune itself. It was an old rune, or at least this version of it was. Never in his life had Gregor wished so badly to be back home yet at the same time he couldn’t bear thinking about anyone in the village. That he might be hurting them, however unintentionally… It wasn’t a pleasant thought.

So he turned his mind instead to one ill-remembered voice. A voice he could only remember humming faintly to him, and even then he wasn’t sure if he had only dreamt it. He knew the face well enough by the painting that hung on the wall back home, but he didn’t _remember_ it. Not really. Hazy, half-memories of his childhood was all he had to connect himself to Zeke. He wondered now if he’d felt the same as Gregor did at that moment. If he’d even had enough time to think before he was whisked away to whatever afterlife awaited him. If Gregor himself might end up in the same place.

His train of thought was suddenly interrupted by a great rustling of leaves and the sound of breaking twigs. Fear rushed through his system and he scrambled backwards as well as he could without further damaging himself. Questions of how he had ended up in the woods and not at the bottom of the cliff or under a broken catapult returned full force to the front of his mind. Something big rolled out of the bushes behind him, near to where he woke up. A dark shape that he had only ever seen a vague outline of against the stars.

Before him, looking disoriented and confused, lay what could only be a Night Fury seen in daylight. It shook its head and Gregor took the opportunity to edge his way further away from the dragon. The Night Fury’s ear perked up as the sound of rustling in the grass and it stopped, looking up suddenly. Gregor stopped, pressed as far against the stone as possible. He held his breath and waited.

They stared at each other for a long moment, neither moving or making a sound. The Night Fury seemed just as lost as Gregor was. It shook the rest of its body, cocking its head to the side in a curious manner. Gregor frowned. He really had not expected the spawn of lightning and death itself to look so outwardly harmless.

Ignoring Gregor entirely, the Night Fury spread its wings and moved to take off. A great rush of air hit him as the dragon tried to gain air and failed. It clawed at the side of the cliff, trying to climb up with added help from its wings, but the effort was futile. The Night Fury came crashing back down to earth in a graceless tangle of limbs. Gregor curiously looked over the dragon for whatever might be stopping it from leaving. The answer came in the form of the dragon’s tail. The back fin was asymmetrical, having only one fin in a horizontal position. He knew enough about dragons and how they flew to hazard a guess that there were supposed to be two.

The Night Fury turned towards him again and a phrase oft repeated during his training came unbidden back to him. ‘A downed dragon is a dead dragon.’ His mind flashed to the tiny knife at his belt. Utterly useless. A downed dragon may have been a dead dragon, but a wounded warrior with a single knife to protect himself against a cornered and desperate dragon was worse. And a dragon always, always, went for the kill.

* * *

Horaven stared at the indent in the wooden post. It looked like someone had driven a knife into it, a sharp one by the cleanness of the cut. Not that the knife would remain sharp much longer if the person in question continued to do this.

“He stole my best knife for this?” Xin asked, glaring at the stab mark like it had personally insulted his entire family tree.

“At least he has enough sense not to use one of his own,” Horaven said evenly. Xin made a face. Horaven ignored him. He couldn’t really blame Zalvetta for wanting to hurt something right now and at least he was taking out his emotions on inanimate objects. That and Xin’s pride, of course.

“Just tell me when you find him.” Xin turned and headed down the hill. Horaven thought he heard a muttered comment about manners before Xin was out of earshot. He rolled his eyes and continued onward, following the logical path he thought Zalvetta might have taken. It led him, predictably, up to the edge of the forest.

The sound of something heavy hitting wood led him further. He didn't have to go far to find Zalvetta.

He was in a small clearing. An old, dead tree had clearly been serving for target practice. Xin’s favourite knife flew through the air once again as Horaven approached, digging its way into the trunk of the dead tree again. Zalvetta walked over to the tree to pull it out, glancing briefly in Horaven’s direction to acknowledge his presence.

“That’s not a throwing knife,” Horaven remarked casually. Zalvetta looked him directly in the eye as he threw it again. He missed the tree, of course. The knife soared past it and landed on a nearby stone. The sound of the blade glancing off the hard surface was almost painful.

“Tell Xin I don’t give a shit.” Under normal circumstances, those words would have been laced with venom. Instead, Zalvetta just sounded quiet and tired.

“I’m not here to be his messenger.”

Zalvetta hummed a flat tone. It could have meant anything or nothing. Horaven sighed, leaning his back against a nearby tree.

“You really shouldn’t throw knives in the village, you know,” he said. Zalvetta remained silent as he picked the knife up out of the underbrush. He tossed it casually from one hand to the other.

“I’m not in the village,” he said eventually. Horaven let the matter go, sitting down and watching in silence as Zalvetta continued to use the dead tree for target practice. The dull periodic thunk of the knife hitting the tree echoed through the forest, highlighting further the eerie silence. Perhaps Zalvetta had scared off the birds that would usually be filling the trees with their song.

“Will you be ok here on your own?” Horaven asked after a while. The sun was getting high in the sky and he had things he needed to do. Zalvetta hummed an affirmative as he threw the knife again. Horaven sighed. “Alright, be back home in time for supper, ok?” Zalvetta didn’t look up but he nodded.

Horaven got to his feet slowly, pausing for a moment before he left. “If you need someone to talk to you know where to find me.”

The only response he got was the dull thunk of the knife hitting the tree again.

* * *

Thog’s house was dead silent. Anyone listening in without seeing would have thought it abandoned, save for crackle of the fire. Inside six people sat around the firepit, all quiet, all busying themselves with something. No one wanted to be the first to break the silence, but someone had to. Inien shifted uncomfortably, but Firi beat her to it.

“He could be alive?” her voice was quiet, unsure and unhappy as she nervously toyed with the strap of her bag. It was unnerving to see her so unsure of herself.

“How?” Thog snapped. “He fell off the fucking cliff, Firi. People don’t just _survive_ shit like that.” Ashe tensed, tightening her grip on Firi’s hand. Firi said nothing, fixing her glare at the centre of the fire rather than any person. There weren’t many people who had ever seen Firi get angry. She almost wanted to change that, now. Yet she knew that that would only make everything worse, impossible as that seemed.

“He’s Gregor, he survives, that’s his _thing_.” Inien’s voice was hollow. No one in the room could tell if she was agreeing with Thog or Firi. Her words seemed in line with Firi, but her tone didn’t match them. Inien herself wasn’t sure she could tell, either. They fell into silence again. In the farthest corner, Kyr stared down at the floor. He hadn’t spoken a word since the morning.

Markus sighed softly, setting down the herbs he’d been bunching up for drying. “We should go see if there’s anything we can do to help repairs.” Kyr got up and practically bolted out of the house as if he had been looking for an excuse to leave the heavy air inside it far behind.

“Distract ourselves, you mean.” Ashe leaned back against the wall.

“It’s the best idea I’ve heard in a while,” Thog grumbled, getting up and walking out without a look back.

“Only until we have a better time- more time… to think. Process. This.” Markus ran a hand through his hair. Firi nodded quietly and got to her feet, walking back out into the fresh air. Inien followed close behind leaving only Markus and Ashe still inside.

“This is wrong,” Ashe stared down at her hands. “Not- not sad or tragic or- I dunno, the things you hear in the stories they tell about struggle and loss and shit. It’s _wrong._ ” Markus nodded quietly.

“Yeah.” His voice sounded strained. “Yeah it’s wrong, and it’s not fair, but we have to keep moving.” Ashe drew a shaky breath but she nodded, getting to her feet. She extended her hand to Markus and he took it, letting her pull him to his feet.

They walked out into the light of a day that felt cold despite the sun shining brightly down on them. Outside they found Firi and Thog waiting for them and they parted in silence. None of them yet sure how this would change things. They would survive, horrible as it felt to use that word at that moment, but they would. They wouldn’t come out the other side unchanged, but they would survive. Markus would make sure of it.

* * *

Kyrlos stared at the halberd Dao had just laid out in front of him. Snapped in half and badly burned, but he still recognized it. He drew a deep breath, willing himself to keep it together.

“Anything else?” his voice shook. Kyl’il looked up from the reports she’d been going through. Dao shook his head.

“Nothing. We’ve gotten all of the rubble cleared, there’s nothing.”

Kyrlos’ shoulders slumped and even sitting as he was, he seemed to fall. “Tell them to keep looking. As close to the cliff as you dare. If we don’t find him by sundown-” he stopped, unable to finish the sentence.

“If we don’t find him by sundown he’s gone beyond our reach,” Kyl’il said. Kyrlos covered his face with his hands. Neither of them had seen him look so tired in a long time.

“One more thing.” Dao picked up the pieces of the broken halberd again. “What do you want me to do with this?” Kyrlos looked up.

“Repair it.” His voice was sharp and controlled in a way that was unnerving to those who knew him. Dao nodded and excused himself quickly, exchanging a look with Kyl’il before he left. The great door closed with a clang behind him.

“I still think you should rest,” Kyl’il spoke up. Her voice echoed slightly in the empty hall. “Physically speaking you’re perfectly healthy but I feel that pushing yourself too hard right now would be harmful.” Kyrlos sent her a look that was hard to place. Not angry, definitely not, but definitely not pleased either. She shrugged. “That’s just my assessment as Senior Healer.” Kyrlos sighed.

“Noted,” he said, sitting down again and staring at the hall doors. He wanted someone to step through them, to give him a problem to solve, tasks to oversee, a quarrel to put an end to, _something_. Unfortunately, his people had way too much respect for him and his feelings to do that. Kyl’il sighed but refrained from commenting further at that moment.

* * *

Gregor was surprised, to say the least. Surprised to be alive, surprised to be where he was and surprised that the Night Fury seemed utterly uninterested in him so long as he stayed on his half of the dip. That would prove a problem, eventually. The Night Fury had the half with the only way out. Still, Gregor had food on his side, food that he could eat. That was a stroke of good fortune. The bushes around the edge of the walls yielded some few ripe berries and there were edible plants and roots in plenty.

He didn’t quite know what to make of his situation. He was trapped, alone and injured with a dragon. Granted, that dragon was also injured, arguably worse than Gregor was, but on the whole, he was more mobile than Gregor. This was not exactly the behaviour he expected from an apex predator with a grudge. He frowned, staring at the ground as he tried to reason it out. It went against everything he had been taught in training. It just didn’t make sense.

He leaned back against the stone and stared out over the lake reflecting the sky above. A beautiful sunset was just beginning to colour the sky. On the other side of the valley the dragon was pacing, nostrils flaring and ears twitching. Gregor kept very still, not wanting to get in the way of whatever he was up to.The Night Fury’s head snapped in the direction of a splash in the lake, eyes fixing on a silvery shape just below the surface.

Even though they would need diurnal traits to manage in a place where the midnight sun lasted for months, Night Furies were most likely primarily nocturnal dragons. He’d want to get hunting now that the sun was going down. Gregor shivered and pressed himself further against the cliff. He had no idea how long a Night Fury could go without food, or when this one had last eaten. Hopefully, his tail wouldn’t be too much of a hindrance in fishing or he might get it into his head to try for the easier target. Not that he was likely to try anything tonight. He’d been awake and wary of Gregor the entire day. Nocturnal or not, he would likely need rest.

The dragon made a trilling sound that Gregor thought sounded somewhat annoyed, and settled back down, staring out into the sunset as it slowly darkened the sky. Gregor pulled his arms into his sleeves, anticipating the cold that would come with the night. He looked at the space by his feet where he had set up a small pile of fallen branches and cleared the ground. He wouldn’t be able to light it by rubbing two sticks together, his shoulder would not allow that. Even flint might be hard, but he had none of that.

He glanced at the Night Fury. _He_ could easily light Gregor’s little campfire, but Gregor had no way of tempting him into that without endangering himself. As if sensing his thoughts the dragon turned towards him and snarled, showing off a row and sharp teeth in a powerful jaw. Gregor bit his lip and stayed put as the dragon began walking in a circle. He nearly jumped out of his skin as the dragon opened his mouth and let out a long shot, scorching the earth beneath him before he curled up and went to sleep. His tail curled around his sleeping form to block Gregor’s view of his face.

Gregor breathed a sigh of relief and got up from the makeshift seat he’d managed to fashion for himself mostly out of fallen branches and some grass. It wouldn’t be a very comfortable bed, but it would be better than sleeping with nothing between himself and the ground.

He still didn’t dare put weight on his ankle so he walked on his knees, careful to be as quiet as possible. Despite the relative safety he seemed to be in so long as he abided by the Night Fury’s rules, he hadn’t really dared move much. Both for fear of agitating his injuries and out of a healthy dose of respect for the giant lightning-shooting reptile he’d found himself trapped with.

The first thing on his mind was water. He counted himself lucky that the dragon had been able to land them in a place where they were at least somewhat likely to survive. Though for how long was the primary question.Leaves, roots, and the occasional berry could only sustain him for so long. He couldn’t eat fish, even if he could light a fire to cook it, so the lake and the stream feeding into it were only useful to him as a source of water.

As he gathered his supper he glanced up at the sky. It was still summer, that much was true, but even in summer the nights, short as they were when they started again, got cold. They weren’t anywhere near the freezing temperature of the long winter months but cold enough to be a problem. For now, he just hoped it wouldn’t rain.

Far above him the stars slowly blinked into existence, one by one, as he crawled back to his unlit campfire. A wind rustled the trees above him but it didn’t enter the sheltered valley. That he could be thankful for, but he was in no way ignorant of the climate he lived in. Rain would come, sooner rather than later. He sighed as he slowly ate his small supper. He just needed to stay alive and healthy until he could climb out through the pathway. He could do that. That was manageable.

He leaned back against the cliff and stared up at the sky. Maybe, he thought absently as a blanket of exhaustion settled over his mind, maybe he’d be able to craft a shelter somehow.Small wisps of cloud drifted past the stars as he lost hold of his waking thoughts and let himself sink into a restless sleep.

* * *

The sun was high in the sky once again as Zalvetta made his way through the forest. His steps carried him almost without thinking up, up towards a clear, pristine lake, _the_ lake. Their lake. He held his necklace in his hand, absently toying with it as he stared at the trees in front of him.

Slowly he lifted the low-hanging branches in his path, revealing the lake before him. It shone in the light of the sun, calm save for a ripple that spread out from where a fish had just breached the surface in search of a water walking insect to snack on. He paused, still holding up the branches for a second. He waited out of habit for Gregor to pass him and sit down by the bank.

A chill wind blew past him, tugging at his clothes. Nature itself punctuating the empty space by his side. He let go of the branches like they had burned him and ran the rest of the way to the lake. There was a moment of complete silence as he stopped, staring out over the tranquil water. A quiet peace that felt utterly out of place and wrong.

His necklace weighed heavy in his hand. His fingers twitched and for one terrible moment, he wanted to throw it back into the lake. It lasted for only a second, but it left him with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. The lake remained still and tranquil.

“It’s not fair.” His voice was small but steady as he spoke to nothing and everything at once. “You weren’t supposed to die like that. You of all people should’ve lived longer!” His voice raised to a shout that echoed over the empty lake.

“I can’t even say this to your face because you had to go and fall off the fucking cliff.” He sank to his knees, eyes fixed on a distant spot in the middle of the lake like he expected Gregor to just appear out of it, alive and real and _there_ once again. The quiet peace of the place remained unbroken. He picked up a nearby stone and flung it as far out as he could without getting up again.

Zalvetta wasn’t one to cry. Anyone in the village could attest to that. He was fairly sure that discounting when he was a baby he could count the number of times he had cried in his life on one hand. It wasn’t something he was used to but it also wasn’t something he could help. There was nothing else he could do. Nothing he could do to fix this or make it better. He was bad enough at both of those things as it was. Making thing better had always been Gregor’s thing.

So he cried, his shoulders shaking, his throat closing around any and all sound. He sat there and he cried, silent, hopeless tears until he couldn’t cry anymore. The next day if anyone were to ask him, he’d say he couldn’t remember falling asleep, only a bone-deep exhaustion that refused to let him move.

* * *

Gregor was singing. It had started out as a soft hum, the familiar tune of a lullaby from his childhood. He could hear his father’s voice clear as day, deep and comforting, in the back of his mind. He didn’t even really have to try. He hated to think how his dad might be feeling at that moment, hated even more that he was turning to those old memories for comfort now. They were his, though, he had the right to do that, and they helped.

The Night Fury made a grumbling noise but Gregor found he couldn’t be bothered. Eventually, he found himself moving from humming to properly singing while he struggled to build some kind of flimsy shelter for himself, an effort he soon gave up. There were no trees pliable enough or close enough together to tie down and create some kind of lean-to, and what fallen branches did exist were hardly up to the task either.

He leaned back against the rock face with a sigh. The Night Fury looked up, noticing the abrupt stop to the singing. Gregor stared out at the small lake, the surface of it glittered slightly in the midday sun. The Night Fury continued to stare.

“What do you want?” he snapped, looking over at the dragon. He got nothing more than a slight growl in return. “Sorry,” he said before he could register that he was saying it or who he was saying it to. After he’d said it he couldn’t find it in himself to rescind it.

“I’m talking to a dragon,” he said to himself, staring at the ground. He was becoming keenly aware with every second that he had actually never spent this much time alone in one stretch in all his life. Getting any alone time in the village was hard enough for those who wanted it, Gregor never had. Not much at least. He didn’t really like being alone.

He looked back at the Night Fury. “You know you could’ve eaten me by now, right?” he asked. The Night Fury made a noise. It sounded almost like a chuckle. Gregor edged further away from him, trying not to identify it as such. Dragons didn’t chuckle.


	3. Chapter III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zalvetta experiences consequences, Kyrlos finally gets some rest, and Gregor makes an ultimately fortunate mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I find it kind of ironic that among the many, many, many historical inaccuracies of the httyd universe that I am now adhering to just because, their use and definition of the term "Viking" bothers me the most

Zalvetta was tired and he was freezing. He was also entirely to blame for both of those things. He stumbled his way through the darkened village, swearing under his breath as his foot caught on something, almost tripping him. He shouldn’t have fallen asleep by the lake. Especially not in his usual daytime wear.

His chest hurt and his shirt was decidedly not made for sleeping outside. He had taken off the binding vest as soon as he’d woken up, he’d been aware enough for that at least, but still, he cursed himself. He glanced up at the Chief’s house where it stood on the hill. The window of Gregor’s room was open, a flickering light was shining out into the darkness of the night. The picture sent a pang through his chest, unrelated to binding for too long. It was such a familiar sight.

He closed his eyes and breathed out, turning purposefully away from the Chief's house. His way home would be a little longer, but he could bear that if he could avoid the reminder or Gregor’s absence. He tried not to heed the small voice whispering to him that his avoidance was a betrayal. Gregor wasn’t there to be hurt by his actions, it didn’t matter, nothing mattered.

Filled again with the bitter anger that his exhaustion had momentarily driven from him he stopped and sent a hard kick towards a nearby barrel. The barrel wobbled slightly as his foot impacted it. Zalvetta jumped away and cursed. The kick had earned him nothing but a sore foot and had done nothing to soothe his feelings.

He thought he heard someone move somewhere nearby and quickly continued towards his home. It may only have been a cat or a lost sheep but he didn’t want to risk running into another human right now.

Once he reached Horaven’s house he stopped. He doubted he could enter through the front door without Horaven noticing him, and even if he did enter through the loft window his bed was still downstairs in the main room. No, he’d have to face Horaven’s worry head-on.

He had barely even knocked on the door before he had to jump out of the way to avoid it as it swung open. Light flooded out into the night and Zalvetta suddenly found himself lifted off the ground and crushed into a familiar embrace. The tension bled out of his shoulders and he let his head fall onto Horaven’s shoulder. Vaguely he registered what sounded like a scolding about staying out late and worrying people half to death.

Horaven had not carried him like this since he was a very small child. Zalvetta had kind of suspected that he still could, his height and strength were probably enough, but the confirmation of it gave him a kind of nostalgic comfort.

Horaven only let Zalvetta go once they were back inside, gently letting him down onto one of the benches. He had not missed the icy temperature of Zalvetta’s skin or the circles under his eyes. They worried him, but Zalvetta would probably not respond well to his worry at that moment.

“Where were you?” he asked instead, in the most gentle tone he could muster. Zalvetta curled into himself and wouldn’t answer. Horaven sighed. “What happened?” he tried instead, reaching for the small jar of honey in the pantry area.

“Fell asleep somewhere I shouldn’t’ve,” Zalvetta muttered.

“Zalvetta…,” Horaven nearly set the jar back in its place but thought better of it. “I’m sorry.” In all honesty, he didn’t know what else he could really say. He stoked the fire in the firepit and set some water to boil.

“Sorry for worrying you.”

Horaven sat down, pulling Zalvetta into a one-armed hug. They waited in silence for the water to boil. Zalvetta felt more acutely now just how tired he was. He may have slept for most of the day and half of the night, but it wasn’t a restful sleep.

Whether he actually fell asleep for a time or just drifted he didn’t know, but he didn’t register when Horaven got up again. He came to only when a warm mug was gently pushed into his hands. The gentle scent of honey steamed up at him.

* * *

Kyl’il wasn’t happy. She stared across the hall at Kyrlos, who in turn stared out into nothingness. She wondered if he was even thinking anything at all or if his brain was in that aware but empty state he sometimes described. His continued refusal to rest was starting to get on her nerves.

The restless clack of her nails against the table sounded too loud in the silence of the hall. Kyrlos shook his head suddenly, returning to the world.

“No.” He said before she could even begin to form the idea of words. She glared at him. Beside her, Dao sighed. He got to his feet and approached Kyrlos, drawing up to his full and rightfully intimidating height.

Kyrlos seemed utterly unaffected.

“You’re going to wear yourself out at this rate,” Dao said, his gentle voice as ever a stark contrast to his intimidating frame.

“It’s better than being alone in that house!” Kyrlos exploded. Dao stood his ground, unshaken against the Chief’s anger. Kyl’il weighed the book in front of her thoughtfully in her hand, tuning out the voices of her colleagues.

Dao put a gentle hand on Kyrlos’ shoulder. “Then stay a while at my place, you need rest.” Kyrlos yanked himself out of Dao’s grip and stood up.

“I can’t, the village needs me!” It was just like after any other dragon raid. He had things he needed to do, people who relied on him. He couldn’t rest, he reasoned, because others needed him. Dao crossed his arms.

“Kyrlos, you’ve done everything you need to. There’s nothing left. Basic repairs are practically done, everyone has a warm place to sleep, food to eat, everything that needs replacing has been noted. You’ve done everything you can.”

Kyrlos took a deep breath, willing himself to calm down. Dao was right, he knew Dao was right, and he hated it. Because nothing to do meant time to think and Kyrlos didn’t want to be left alone with his thoughts.

“There’ll be something,” he said.

Kyl’il nodded to herself, satisfied with her conclusion and got to her feet. With one precise movement, before either Dao or Kyrlos could react, she flung the book full force at Kyrlos’ head. Her aim held true. The book struck the back of his head with a satisfying _thunk_ and he went down.

Dao reacted quickly, catching him before he could hit the floor but he was already out cold. Kyl’il clapped her hands together, satisfied, and strode forwards. Dao gave her an incredulous look, but he picked up Kyrlos and followed her nevertheless.

“I’m sure there was a better way to accomplish this,” he said as they exited the hall.

“We tried it your way,” she said evenly. “And I waited ‘til after nightfall.” Dao sighed and adjusted his grip on Kyrlos. She had a point.

“Let's get him home before anyone sees us.”

* * *

Gregor shivered. At some point in the night, a fog had rolled in and it showed no signs of letting up just yet. It pressed in against every bit of bare skin it could find, a clinging blanket of cold that seemed impossible to shake. With every second that ticked by he became more aware of that he did not have a proper binder with him. Just the old, loose thing he threw on for dragon raids. It wasn’t _bad_ yet, but a niggling sensation at the back of his mind reminded him that it would, give it time, and it would.

The Night Fury, of course, didn’t seem bothered by anything at all. He was inspecting the lake curiously, stalking around the edge. Gregor pulled his arms further into his tunic and stared at the hunting dragon. Something about his movement pattern was familiar, but Gregor couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He watched in interest as the large black shape stalked around the pool, eyes intensely focused on any movement beneath the surface.

The pounce came without warning, as sudden and quick as his previous movements had been slow and careful. The dragon sent up a great splash but came out of the lake with a fish. He shook himself off and gulped it down in one quick motion.

“You’re a cat,” Gregor said suddenly, realising what the Night Fury’s movement patterns reminded him of. He looked up, turning his head curiously. “I mean you’re a dragon, but you move kind of like a cat.” The dragon snorted and turned back towards the lake to continue his hunt.

Gregor wondered again just how intelligent he might be. He seemed to understand Gregor’s meaning most of the time, or he reacted like he did anyway.

“When I get out of here I’m telling Firi everything I’ve learned about you!” Gregor called after the dragon. The only response he got was a dismissive tail flick.

* * *

“You _knocked me out_?” Kyrlos was seated in his bed, newly risen, and rightfully angry. A merry fire was burning in the firepit. Dao had been watching over him most of the morning before he’d risen and Kyl’il had arrived just in time for him to wake up.

She shrugged. “You were being too stubborn for your own good.” As if that justified her hurling a heavy blunt object at his head.

“Isn't this treason?” Kyrlos turned to Dao.

“I think you’d have a hard time getting anyone in the village to agree with you on that,” he replied. Kyrlos shook his head and winced.

“Not even you?” he asked, though his tone wasn’t accusatory. Dao kept suspiciously quiet. Kyrlos lay back down and sighed.

“So you’ll rest, then?” Kyl’il crossed her arms, staring down at Kyrlos.

“You make a convincing argument,” he said, pressing a hand against his head. She snorted.

“Speaking of, since you are technically injured, I’m going to order you, as your healer, to get enough rest. Just in case you get it in your head to start over-working yourself again.” She sat down gracefully and took the cup of honey milk Dao offered her. Kyrlos had to laugh.

“You thought of everything,” he said.

“Of course I did, I deal with Vikings for a living.” She took a sip of her drink, though her satisfied smirk did not go unnoticed. Kyrlos dearly wanted to point out that she was one of those Vikings herself, but he thought it wise to keep his mouth shut.

* * *

Zalvetta woke late and knew immediately that something was wrong. He felt cold, his vision was swimming, he could hardly breathe. He lay in confusion for a few seconds before a vicious cough ripped itself out of his throat. He jerked upright, feeling like his lungs were trying to rip themselves out of his throat.

Horaven looked up from the other side of the room, a frown on his face. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“No shit!” Zalvetta wheezed when he was finally able to draw breath again. Horaven got to his feet.

“Stay there, I’ll go find a healer.”

Zalvetta was more than happy to follow that order. He sank back into his furs and stared up at the ceiling. The door opened and closed as Horaven left. Zalvetta didn’t know how much time passed between his leaving and returning. He might have nodded off, he wasn’t sure.

Whatever was the case, he opened his eyes to find Markus frowning down at him. Almost reflexively he tried to move away, even fogged up as his brain was he was still aware of Markus’ weak constitution.

“Before you say anything I think this is a fucking terrible idea, too,” Thog’s voice rang out from the other side of the room. “He wouldn’t listen to reason.” Markus straightened and made an annoyed sound.

“I know what I’m doing,” he said. He focused his attention back onto Zalvetta. “I’ll make you something to soothe your throat and maybe clear your head a bit. Other than that there’s not much I can do. You need to make sure to take care of yourself and hopefully this’ll pass.”

Zalvetta didn’t answer. He stared up at the ceiling, silently mulling over what had stuck him in this situation. At least he hadn’t gone back to Xin’s last night. He couldn’t stand the idea of being cooped up in there for however long it took him to shake this. Provided he could shake it at all and it didn’t develop further.

A knock at the door stopped his thoughts in their tracks. Horaven looked up, but Thog was closer and pulled to door open to let Firi into the house.

“Word travels fast,” he muttered as he stepped aside. Firi smiled one of her gentle smiles.

“Kyrlos is on his way, thought I should warn you,” she said, settling herself on the bench opposite to Zalvetta. He frowned, pushing himself up a little.

“The Cheif? Wha-” a harsh cough forced him to pause speaking for a moment- “what does he want with me?” Firi and Thog shared a look. Markus paused what he was doing and turned his head slightly, not enough to be obviously listening in on the conversation, but enough for Zalvetta to notice.

“Is it really surprising?” Firi asked. She seemed genuinely surprised and though she didn’t mention Gregor by name, Zalvetta got her message loud and clear all the same. He and Gregor had been close, naturally Kyrlos would want to check on him. That made his heart twist uncomfortably. He lay back down and continued his staring at the ceiling.

He floated back into a state of half-awareness. He registered when Markus shoved a cup of warm, sweet smelling liquid into his hands and told him to drink all of it. It tasted almost as nice as it smelled. He vaguely heard conversations going on in the room, but couldn’t quite be bothered to figure out who was talking to whom.

He must have nodded off again at some point because when he woke up again it was silent. Everyone had left to go do whatever they needed to do. He didn’t know how long he’d been alone, but knowing his friends and Horaven it was most likely not long. Slowly he sat up and the red winter cloak that had been placed over him as an extra blanket slipped off.

He froze, staring down at it for a long, deafeningly silent moment. Kyrlos had been here already, then. His hands shook as he picked it up. He examined it in detail like he never had before. The slightly faded hem, the clasp that almost seemed new it had seen so little use. Every odd thread, every frayed corner he took in. Gregor had been wearing it last Yule when they had danced together out in the snow.

Of course, he had worn it the entire winter, it was his regular cloak, but that memory stuck out to Zalvetta now. That and the many, many times before winter had truly fallen that Gregor would practically ambush him with that self-same cloak to make sure he didn’t catch a chill. He pulled it close to himself and wondered what might have happened if he’d dared to speak.

He shoved that thought away as soon as it surfaced, but his grip on Gregor’s cloak tightened.

* * *

Gregor was worried. A gnawing, restless worry had settled in the pit of his stomach and didn’t seem all too keen on leaving. He fiddled nervously with his bracelet, too deep in thought to pay much attention to his surroundings. It was hard to pin down exactly who or what he was worried about, there was so much in the cloud of emotions that had descended on him.

How was Zalvetta doing? Was his father ok? Who else had been caught in the explosion of the catapult? Had they made it out alright? How much destruction had the village gone through this time? How long would it take to repair?

It happened in an instant. He’d been too deep in thought to miss the warning growl, too lost in worry to notice his slow pace had taken him past the silently agreed upon border. A large black shape barrelled into him, knocking him backwards and placing a heavy paw on his chest to keep him down.

The knife he had somehow managed to draw slipped from his hand and he heard the distinctive _plunk_ of a small object falling into water. Above him the dragon growled again, eyes sharp and suspicious. Gregor tried to calm his breathing, show less fear, but he was pinned by a giant lightning shooting reptile. There wasn’t much to be done about fear. He had somehow managed to forget how dangerous the dragon could be and now he cursed that oversight.

The Night Fury cocked his head to the side curiously and lifted his paw from Gregor’s chest. Despite the newfound freedom, Gregor kept very still. They stared at each other for a long moment before the dragon lowered his head slightly and sniffed Gregor.

“You don’t want to eat me!” Gregor blurted. He tried to move backwards, forgetting for a moment where he was. The moment did not last long as his good arm lost its hold and he fell backwards into the lake.

The dragon made that rumbling trilling noise again. The one that sounded like a laugh. Gregor glared up at him as he crawled up out of the lake and shook himself off as best he could.

The Night Fury curled up, watching him with an amused glint in his green eyes. Gregor couldn’t for the life of him figure out why, but the dragon seemed less distrusting and watchful suddenly. He shook his head as he tried to ring the water out of his hair. Surely he was just projecting his desire for companionship onto the dragon.

“Why haven’t you killed me yet?” He settled himself in the warmest spot he could find to dry himself. His shoulder ached dully, the fall hadn’t been good for it, but his ankle had thankfully avoided any fresh agitation. The dragon flicked an ear, a signal that he was listening. “That’s what you’re supposed to do. Burn people to crisps, carry them off, or-, or sink their ships and leave their families with nothing!” He winced, thankful that the dragon probably couldn’t actually understand what he was saying. He hadn’t meant to dig into that old wound again but it didn’t make _sense_.

Everything he knew, his whole life experience, told him he should be dead right now. That, having prey cornered and helpless like this, a dragon would not hesitate to strike. Unless… He looked up at the dragon again, frowning slightly.

“Firi’s right, isn’t she?” he asked. The dragon raised his head and cocked it to the side, watching Gregor curiously. He sighed and lay down on the grass, staring up at the sky. If Firi was right that meant the dragon raids could be stopped. That, when provided no reason to attack, the dragons would most likely leave them alone.  _That_ in turn meant-

His train of thought was rudely interrupted as a great paw came down on him, poking him curiously. It was probably a gentle poke from the dragon’s perspective but it was enough to jostle Gregor considerably.

“Ow,” Gregor said, mostly on reflex. He didn’t actually hurt any more than he had before the dragon pushed him. He sat up, staring up at the dragons face. For a long moment they remained like that, still, examining each other.

Then Gregor nodded, his decision made. “Well, if we’re gonna be on friendly terms, you’ll need a name.” The dragon made and inquisitive trilling sound and again Gregor wondered how much he actually understood. “How about Buddy?”

The dragon, Buddy, didn’t really seem all that interested in that he’d been given a name. Gregor shrugged and lay back down, watching the clouds roll by as he mulled this new reality over in his head. Buddy walked over to one of the sturdier trees and jumped up, wrapping his tail around a branch and hanging himself upside down like a bat to nap.

Firi _would_ be thrilled when he got out of here and told her about this. She’d catalogued everything she could about every dragon species she could get her hands on. Anatomy, firing capacity, diet, habitat. Not only were Night Furies one of the few known species she had nothing but rumour on, this opened up a whole new avenue of study.

Gregor looked over at the sleeping dragon, a new idea of escape forming in the back of his mind.

* * *

“I don’t like this.” Ashe’s leg was bouncing restlessly as she stared out over the village. She and Firi were seated on the front step of her own home, one of the traditional longhouse farms overlooking the entire village. Firi looked up at her questioningly. “It’s too quiet.”

“It’s calm,” she corrected gently. Ashe frowned. Firi was right, of course, but she still didn’t like it. It felt wrong for the world to feel so… _content_. Like it hadn’t just ripped a core part of their group away from them without any reason or warning.

“It shouldn’t be,” she muttered, staring darkly towards the catapult. It was in the process of being rebuilt. Firi pulled her closer, following her gaze down to the edge of the cliff.

“I think...” she paused, considering her words carefully. “Ashe, I don’t think he’s dead.” Ashe closed her eyes, a fresh lance of pain shooting through her heart. She’d been afraid of that. Firi’s gentle optimism was one of the countless things Ashe loved about her, but in this case, it would only hurt her. Eventually, she would realise Gregor wasn’t coming back and it would only hurt her worse for hoping he would.

“How?” she asked, moving away slightly so she could look at Firi.

“I don’t know,” she said. “But I really don’t think he is.” The steadfast hope in her eyes was almost enough to break Ashe’s heart. She didn’t say anything in return, she only pulled Firi close, hiding her face in Firi’s shoulder and willing herself not to cry.

* * *

Markus stared down at Zalvetta, shivering in his sleep and clutching a familiar winter cloak to his chest. It was odd, he thought, as he brushed aside some of Zalvetta’s hair to check his temperature, there was nothing really that connected them save for the village they grew up in. Markus had never been allowed in dragon training and even if he had, he’d have been in training a few years before Zalvetta, they lived practically at opposite sides of the village and would have moved in entirely different social circles if not for Gregor.

Markus sat down, continuing his silent watch. Thog had long since given up on talking him out of taking care of Zalvetta and for that Markus was grateful. He did know what he was doing, after all, and Zalvetta was important to him. He worried that without Gregor he might sink into himself again, become the loner he had been during their childhoods before Gregor had managed to coax him out of his shell and into their group.

He found himself wishing Moren would come back, or that he had stayed longer. Not just for his and Thog’s sake, but for Zalvetta’s, too. The two of them had always been somewhat like brothers, for all that Moren’s mother hadn’t been able to take Zalvetta in as a child. Markus sighed, leaning his head against the wall and staring up at the ceiling.

On the other side of the room, Thog cleared his throat. Markus looked down and Thog nodded at the door. For a moment he hesitated, looking down at Zalvetta, but he relented and followed Thog out into the bright light of day.

He leaned against the wall beside where Thog had already settled himself.

“Before you say anything I’m not gonna ask you to find another healer for the kid. You’re too fucking stubborn for that.” There was a fond tone behind his words.

Markus smiled. “So you finally see sense.” Thog rolled his eyes.

“No, I see you’re too fucking stubborn to reason with, and I’m not about to start dragging you away from your job just ‘cause I’m worried about you.”

“Aw, Thog, you do care.” Markus pressed a hand to his chest in mock-surprise. Thog shoved him lightly. The mirth of the moment passed quickly as they both fell into silent thought again. It felt wrong to joke around but at the same time they both knew that Gregor would want them to pick up and move on as quickly as they could. Yes, Gregor would’ve wanted them to do that, but they couldn’t.

Markus silently took Thog’s hand.

“Come on,” Thog’s voice was softer than was usual. “We should eat. Horaven will come get us if anything happens with Zalvetta.” Markus glanced at the door for a moment and then nodded. He let Thog lead him through the village to his house. He let himself rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *ahem*  
> May I have your attention, please?  
> Hi, I'm a trans guy who projects his feelings on to most of his faves. And I have a lot of faves in TI. So Gregor and Zalvetta are trans.  
> That is all, have a good night.


	4. Chapter IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life moves forwards, Dao contemplates an unpleasant truth, and Gregor comes to a Realization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gave me some Feelings while I was writing it.

As soon as he woke Gregor knew it had rained during the night. The air was thick with the smell of nature after rain. For a brief moment, he panicked, before his brain woke up a little more and registered that he had somehow escaped the downpour.

Confused, he opened his eyes and for a moment he thought he might have miscalculated the time of day, but no, the sun was shining from behind slowly parting clouds. The darkness above him was of an entirely different nature. A large, leathery black wing stretched out above him, shielding him from the elements. Buddy had approached him at some point during the night to offer a shelter that, in the shelter-less dip, Gregor would not have been able to find on his own.

As soon as Buddy noticed he was awake, however, he withdrew his wing and scampered away to his side of the dip. Gregor sat up and looked around. The grass beyond his make-shift bed was still damp and slippery, but the morning sun was warm, quickly chasing away the remnants of the night’s chill.

Gregor sat up slowly. He was stiff, but that would wear off fairly quickly. His shoulder was feeling somewhat better, too, at least compared to yesterday. His ankle still hurt, but he would survive. He was confident of that, now.

“I could help you fish if you want,” he said, not really expecting any response from Buddy. Still, there were some sticks around. He could conceivably fashion a fishing spear from a strong one and a sharp rock. “Wait-” he turned to look at Buddy- “that’s why you’re not careful around me anymore? Because I dropped my knife in the lake?”

Buddy tilted his head slightly but gave no indication as to whether Gregor was right. He shrugged. In the end, it didn’t really matter. He was alive, that alone was a small miracle. He was alive and dragons could apparently be reasoned with. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“Do you know why I’ve always hated you so much?” he asked, not really expecting an answer. Buddy made a trilling noise. Gregor wasn’t quite sure how to interpret those yet but he took it to be a negative answer. “There’re the frequent raids, but that’s why everyone hates you, that’s not news.”

Gregor drew a deep breath. He hadn’t talked openly about this to anyone other than his father and even then those talks had been limited. Slowly he unwrapped the charm from around his wrist. He stared down at it as he contemplated his next words.

“You- not you, exactly, not even your class of dragon, probably-” he paused again to collect himself. “A dragon of some kind, probably a Tidal Class dragon, took someone important from me. They took someone important from my dad. And I’ve hated you for it for as long as I’ve known what hating someone is.” His eyes stung as he attempted to blink away tears he refused to let fall. It had always been that way. He’d hated anyone who brought his friends and family pain. No matter what, or who, they were.

A gentle shove against his good shoulder made him jump. He turned to see that while he’d been distracted, Buddy had approached him. A pair of big, green eyes stared down at him. He couldn’t help but think that they seemed to radiate sympathy. He smiled weakly. Buddy tilted his head, watching Gregor with interest before he opened his mouth in what Gregor could only call a clumsy attempt at a smile from a creature not built to do so.

He almost laughed. It looked more than slightly ridiculous, but he couldn’t deny it was endearing.

“I appreciate the effort,” he said, truthfully. “I guess dragons are good for curing crushing loneliness, once you throw all your weapons in a lake.”

Buddy let out a familiar trill, the one that was sounding more and more like a laugh as time passed.

* * *

Kyrlos stared at the painting. Old and slightly faded but still valuable to him. Now, the eyes that stared out at him seemed accusing, angry despite Zeke’s serene, painted smile. Kyrlos had never felt so absolutely, bitterly alone.

His throat closed around the words he wanted to speak. He wasn’t even quite sure what they were supposed to be. An apology? He closed his eyes, unable to look at the portrait any longer. He had failed them. The two most important people in his life and he had failed them both.

“If-” he drew a deep breath. He opened his eyes and looked back to the painting. “If by some miracle you find him, please… take care of him? Protect him, do everything I couldn’t.” He steadied himself, taking a moment to steel himself against his next words.

“He was a great kid. He deserved better.”

Kyrlos blinked tears out of his eyes. It hurt, talking about Gregor in past tense. He didn’t think the sting of it would ever fade. It hadn’t with Zeke, the pain came and went, true enough, but it was always there, lurking behind the meanderings of everyday life.

If Zeke had lived, would Gregor still be alive?

That thought felt almost like a physical blow to his heart. Contemplating what-ifs was never a good idea, but he couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help but wonder. He closed his hand around the ring, hanging as ever on a chair around his neck under his clothes. As close to his heart as possible.

A knock on his door startled him badly enough to make him fall out of bed. His landing wasn’t bad, but it was loud enough to make whoever was at his door knock again.

“Kyrlos, open up, I need to make sure I didn’t knock you senseless.” Kyl’il’s voice sounded almost bored. Kyrlos got to his feet and stumbled to the door, hastily wiping his eyes before he pulled it open.

“I thought that was the point?” he asked, crossing his arms. She rolled her eyes and pushed past him.

“Actually Dao asked me to make sure you don’t starve.” She dropped a covered basket down on the table. A familiar smell wafted up at Kyrlos as the pulled the cloth out of the way.

“Ah,” he said, looking down at the pot of familiar fish soup. “Horaven made this.” It was a statement of fact, not a guess. Kyl’il grimaced.

“He’s stressed. The whole village will be having this for supper.”

Kyrlos sighed. “I can’t blame him.”

“At least he’s a good cook.” Kyl’il sat down, looking pointedly from Kyrlos to the food. Taking her meaning he fetched bowls and spoons. They ate in silence, but the presence of another living human was a comfort to him. The house felt a little less hollow, at least.

* * *

Zalvetta couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so miserable. That might be because he had never felt so miserable, or because he couldn’t remember much of anything at that moment. The fevered haze had not lifted. He felt sluggish, he hadn’t moved all day.

All he’d had the energy and wherewithal to do was eat and drink as he was told to. He had not released his hold on Gregor’s cloak since he had woken with it draped over him.

“Drink up,” Markus’ voice forced its way through the fog. Zalvetta slowly sat up, blinking until the world agreed to right itself. He took the offered cup without question and downed it. The medicine helped, a little, soothed his throat and chased away the cough for a while. “When have you last eaten?”

“Not? Long ago?” he tried. Horaven made a noise of agreement. Zalvetta could tell he was stressed. Even through the fevered haze, he was aware of the stress cooking. He knew he shouldn’t feel guilty for worrying him, but he did.

“Good,” Markus stood up. “You’ve got some visitors, you think you’re up for it?”

Zalvetta laid back down and nodded. Markus smiled and walked over to the door. The light that flooded in as he opened it was painful but it passed quickly as several figures stepped in and the door shut behind them.

“How’re you feeling?” Firi sat down beside him, quickly followed by Ashe. Zalvetta groaned in form of answer. Firi smiled sympathetically, gently patting his leg.

Zalvetta scanned the room, noting with mild surprise that everyone was there. Kyr looked like he had come straight from Dao’s workshop and Inien was muttering something to herself. Thog hadn’t left his spot in the corner all day.

Zalvetta didn’t have the energy to pay much attention to the conversation, he registered snippets here and there, and joined in on occasion. He could’ve sworn only a few hours had passed by the time Horaven set out supper and told them all they were welcome to stay.

* * *

Dao was troubled. By recent events, yes, but more so by the thought that had entered his mind, unwelcome and uninvited, earlier that afternoon. His forge stood cold as he sat, staring out the window, trying to decide a course of action. Kyrlos would not take the suggestion well, not at this stage. Still, the fact remained.

Body or not, Gregor deserved a funeral. Needed one, even.

Dao sighed. No, Kyrlos would not take it well. He had already had a funeral for his husband with no body to burn or bury. Truly, the Gods had a cruel sense of humour. His eyes flicked to the corner where the broken halberd still lay.

“You look tired,” Kyl’il appeared at the open window, seemingly out of nowhere. Dao blinked.

“I am. Did he eat?”

Instead of answering in words Kyl’il reached in through the window and deposited the now empty basket onto his worktable. Dao nodded, satisfied, and sat back. In one fluid motion, Kyl’il hefted herself up onto the windowsill and into the room. She settled on the table.

“You’re thinking about the funeral,” she said. Dao sighed softly, running a hand over his face.

“It can’t be avoided.”

Kyl’il nodded. “Not for long, but it can wait. We can give him a little more time.” Dao nodded, getting to his feet.

Kyl’il’s eyes followed him as he walked to the halberd and studied it. The blade itself needed some repairs, and the staff needed replacing. Not a hard job in the literal sense.

“He’ll need that,” Kyl’il remarked quietly. Dao closed his eyes briefly, grip tightening around the staff.

“I know,” he said. He picked up one of his smaller tools to detach the blade from the staff. He could have it done by morning.

* * *

Gregor frowned down at the sharpened stick in his hand, then glanced at Buddy who was prowling around the lake’s edge. Quietly Gregor crawled up to the lake, peering down into the almost entirely clear water. It wasn’t hard to spot the fish swimming around below him. He looked at the make-shift fishing spear again.

It would have to do.

With one quick trained motion he stabbed down into the water, but the fish scattered and he only barely nudged one of them. From the other side of the lake came that familiar draconic laugh. He looked up and made a token effort to splash Buddy despite the distance. That only served to earn him another laugh.

Deciding it was best to refocus his efforts on the fish he moved around the lake’s edge, away from the water he had disturbed. Soon enough he encountered more fish and this time when the spear went into the water it returned with a fish. Grinning, Gregor removed the fish from the spear and got to his feet. Moving carefully, using the spear as a support he approached Buddy.

“I’ve got something for you,” he said carefully, sitting down a safe distance away from where Buddy was still hunting. At the sound of his approach, Buddy stilled and looked up curiously. He lit up at the sight of the fish and ran up, quickly nabbing the morsel out of Gregor’s grip.

Gregor watched with some satisfaction as Buddy hungrily wolfed it down. Things were going well. At this rate, he might even gain Buddy’s trust before long. Of course, everything only seemed fine until Buddy decided to regurgitate a whole in-tact fish tail onto Gregor’s lap.

“Ew,” he said, as calmly as possible in hopes that his own voice might repress the growing urge to fling the slimy fish tail from himself and possibly throw up. Not necessarily in that order.  
Buddy sat down, watching him expectantly. Gregor blinked. Then he realised, with some horror, what Buddy was expecting of him.

“No,” he said flatly. Buddy tilted his head to the side. “Nope. Definitely not. Don’t like this.” Buddy made a noise that almost sounded disappointed and his ears drooped. Gregor groaned.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sure this is normal for you but, uh…” he looked around for something to aid in his explanation. “I’m not a dragon. Obviously. If I did eat meat I’d have to cook this and even then I don’t know if I’d dare touch it because it’s been kinda eaten already?”

Buddy’s ears perked up somewhat, in an attentive, listening way, but at least he didn’t look so sad any more. Gregor relaxed slightly.

“Also I don’t eat meat so…” he looked down at the fish tail again and shuddered. Buddy looked at the grass and then at Gregor a couple times. Once he’d drawn his conclusion he pawed at it and sent Gregor and inquisitive look.

Gregor blinked and shook his head. “But you’re close!” He threw the tail off his lap and went to wash his hands and what he could of his tunic. When he turned back the tail was gone and Buddy looked content.

“You want me to show you what in this place I can actually eat?” he asked. Buddy perked up, following curiously behind Gregor as he gave a tour of the small patch of wilderness they found themselves in from the human vegetarian perspective. The selection was still as abysmal as it had been when they first crash-landed here, but it was something.

Struck by a sudden thought, he stopped in the middle of his showcasing of some of the berries in the dip. He turned to stare at Buddy for a moment. Buddy stared back at him. Without and explanation Gregor turned, changing his task from teaching to gathering sticks and some dry, fallen leaves from last year.

Returning to the spot where he had first constructed a campfire he couldn’t light, he piled his materials as he’d been taught. When that was done he looked up at Buddy, who had followed him and was still watching curiously.

“Can you light it?” he asked. Buddy didn’t seem to understand. Gregor frowned, staring at the unlit campfire. “Can you set it on fire?” he tried again, pointing at it. This time, Buddy understood him. He sprung into action sending a short, small blast at the campfire. Gregor jumped backwards, then he laughed. A delighted, relieved laugh.

From his gathered food supply he fished one of the edible roots. Lacking a small enough sharp stick, he settled for one he could twist the root into and set it to roast. The relief that swept over him was intense enough to threaten to knock him out if he wasn’t careful. Even though he guessed could probably afford an adrenaline crash now that he and Buddy were on speaking terms, it wasn’t something he wanted to leave to chance.

Once he judged the root sufficiently roasted he took it off the fire. He ate it immediately, though it burned his tongue. At that moment, however, he couldn’t care less. It was warm food, cooked food, made over a real fire. It made him feel a little light-headed.

Buddy looked pleased. He could clearly tell he’d done something good. Gregor smiled, leaning back against the rockface. “Thank you,” he said softly. Buddy made a pleased trilling sound.  
Gregor returned to staring into the fire, his thoughts going once again to escape. This time, however, they didn’t stop there. They went on, to what he might do after that. A plan, he needed one.

He needed Zalvetta.

The thought was not entirely unrelated but it still struck him like a bolt of lightning out of the blue and derailed him completely. He’d been steering his thoughts away from the village, not by conscious choice, but he had. The full weight of his guilt came flooding back to him, accompanied by the clear and sharp pain of missing someone terribly.  
He drew a shuddering breath and closed his eyes.

“I want to go home,” his voice sounded terribly weak, even to his own ears. Buddy made a concerned sound and nudged him gently. He ran his hands through his hair, trying to gain back his composure. “Sorry, you probably have someone you miss, too,” he said. Buddy only gave another concerned whine.

Gregor didn’t know why, later in life, he would never be able to tell what exactly spurred him to do so, but he started to talk. He told Buddy about his friends, about his family, the good things rather than the bad. He spoke of his father, of training as a child. He spoke of Firi and her interest in dragons, of Ashe who was like a sister to him. Of Thog who worried about them all though he’d never admit it. Markus and Kyr and the afternoons the three of them spent in the smithy. Inien who they loved despite her vicious barbs.

He spoke of Zalvetta. For perhaps the first time he honestly, truly, talked about him. Told a maybe listening dragon about everything. The afternoons spent exploring Berk, the quiet moments, the sparring. None of what he told was strictly speaking a secret, he never mentioned their lake or anything else they’d promised to keep between the two of them, and yet as he spoke he felt something shift. A clarity he had never had before. An unfamiliar feeling that had sat curled up and untouched in a corner of his heart for years now uncurled and spread.

Words died on his tongue. Years of unexplored emotions rushed through him to settle, warm but heavy, in his chest. He blinked fresh tears out of his eyes. Beside him, Buddy made a noise, soft, but enough to startle him out of his momentary reverie.

“I- I think I love him?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FEELINGS.
> 
> Also, Gregor is still a vegetarian because fight me.


	5. Chapter V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gregor is frustrated, Buddy is a cat, and one of Berk's signature summer storms rolls in.

Gregor got barely any sleep that night. His mind was wide awake and racing, examining in minute detail every memory of Zalvetta. Every feeling he could recall tied to his lifelong friend and he wondered, for the first time in his life, what exactly Zalvetta might feel for him. He wasn’t the best at reading other people’s emotions correctly but maybe, just maybe… It was probably wishful thinking.

Still…

“I gave him a shiny rock,” he said. Buddy looked up. “He wears it as a necklace.” Gregor sat up, staring down at the grass. His eyes could’ve bored a hole in the ground with the intensity of his focus. The necklace didn’t necessarily mean what Gregor wanted it to. He groaned.

Buddy just stared at him. Of course, he had no idea what any human courting customs might be, but he was also the only living creature around who was willing to listen. So he’d have to deal.

“Why are feelings so confusing?” Gregor flopped back down, eyes fixing on a fluffy cloud as it rolled lazily by, unaffected by human problems. With a heavy thump, Buddy flopped down near him, mimicking his movements.

Whether or not he intended it to be funny, it was, and Gregor couldn’t help the slight laugh that escaped him.

“Thanks,” he said. The small distraction was a welcome one.

Struck by a sudden curiosity he sat up again. Buddy followed his movements intently but remained where he was. Hesitantly Gregor reached forwards, Buddy twitched backwards a bit, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

Gregor paused, shifting into a more comfortable position. “I’m not gonna hurt you,” he promised. Buddy stared at him, unmoving, for what felt like forever. He hadn’t felt so carefully scrutinized since his dragon training days. “You could easily bite off my hand if I do,” he added. Buddy made that trilling laugh-like sound again.

Gregor words, whether he actually understood them or just the general tone of them, seemed to have put him at ease. He moved his head until it connected with Gregor’s hand. The feeling was odd, the scales were much smoother than he had expected. He’d touched dragon scales before, obviously, and dragon hides, and pretty much anything you could get off a dragon, but obviously none of that stuff had ever come from a Night Fury, and none of the dragons had been alive.

Buddy was _warm_. Gregor wasn’t sure why he’d expected anything different, his colouration was dark, it was natural that he’d soak up the sun’s rays. Still, the warmth seemed more than that. Like there was some kind of internal fire just below the surface.

Gregor was reminded of when he’d compared Buddy to a cat. Caught by a sudden curiosity he moved his hand to gently scratch behind his ears. Buddy arched into the scratch, making a noise that might as well have been a purr. Gregor laughed, moving his hand slightly down.

The reaction was immediate, Buddy froze for a second before going completely limp. His head fell into Gregor’s lap, effectively trapping him where he was. For a split second, Gregor worried that he’d done something wrong, but Buddy seemed more content than ever.

“You’re sure you’re a dragon and not a cat?” Gregor asked. Buddy trilled happily and Gregor returned to lightly scratching his head.

There was a kind of quiet peace to the moment, thought Gregor guessed his legs would begin falling asleep soon. He didn’t want to push Buddy off, though, that thought felt almost criminal. Exactly like when Zalvetta’s cat used to curl up in his lap when they were kids.

He sighed.

No one back home was gonna believe him.

Well, no, that wasn’t fair. Firi and Zalvetta would, without question. Thog would definitely think he’d gone mad out in the woods injured and alone, though. The others he wasn’t really sure. They could fall either way. Ashe might believe him purely because this leant credence to Firi’s theories.

“I’ll have to tell them about you, ok?” He looked down at Buddy, but he didn’t seem to care. “Kyr and Markus might be able to do something about your tail.” Buddy cracked an eye open. Above them, the sky was slowly growing darker. The heavy grey clouds rolling in spoke of rain to come.

* * *

Firi winced, glancing up at the sky with a frown. It was going to rain, then. She closed the window, blocking out the already quickly cooling air. Ashe groaned. She felt it, too. The both of them had, in some way or other, something that changed with the weather. For Ashe it was the worst of her scars, for Firi it was her leg.

“I’ll massage your back if you heat up something for my leg,” Firi suggested, setting down the book she had been reading. Ashe sat up, giving Firi a silent thumbs up and going to grab the bag smooth stones to set over the fire for a bit. Firi moved to the bed, detaching her prosthetic and setting it in its usual place before getting comfortable.

“It hasn’t been this bad in a while,” Ashe said, trying to indirectly apologise for being in pain. Firi shook her head.

“Doesn’t matter, it’s bad now, and I can help.” Ashe smiled slightly, returning to the bed with the bag at the perfect temperature. Firi smiled as she settled the bag comfortably around her knee and what remained of her lower leg.

“Thanks,” she leaned forward slightly to give Ashe a brief kiss before clapping her hands together. “Right, tunic off.” Ashe laughed lightly but did as she was told, turning her back to Firi.  
It wasn’t nearly the first time she’d seen it, the large lightning scar on Ashe’s back. It wasn’t likely to fade while either of them still lived. Firi could tell what was making the pain worse the moment she touched Ashe’s shoulders.

“No wonder it’s so bad,” she said gently. Ashe’s muscles were tense, pulled into painful knots on her shoulders and by her shoulder blades. “I could’ve done this sooner, you know,” she said. She didn’t need to see Ashe’s face to know that her lips twitched up into a smile at that.

“I know,” she said.

Firi paused for a moment to lean forward and plant a kiss on Ashe’s neck.

“We need to work on that.”

Ashe sighed in relief as she felt her shoulders loosen up and relax under Firi’s hands. “You’re probably right.” Firi moved down to the area right between Ashe’s spine and shoulder blades, working on undoing the tension there. Outside thunder rolled in the distance, but they were safe and warm indoors.

“It’s gonna be big,” Ashe noted. Firi hummed in agreement.

They fell into a comfortable silence as Firi worked on Ashe’s back. It wasn’t long before the rain started to fall. The rhythmic patter of it against the roof was calm at first but soon picked up. Heavy raindrops fell hard and fast.

A thunderclap sounded, far too loud and bone-shaking to be far off. Firi frowned, pausing for a moment to look at the closed window. Ashe straightened her back a bit, looking over her shoulder at Firi.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. Firi bit her lip.

“Nothing,” she said quietly, returning her attention to Ashe’s back. The last knot melted away even as Ashe frowned, turning to look at Firi more seriously.

“No, something’s wrong,” she said.

“You won’t like it,” Firi warned.

Ashe frowned. “Why does that matter?”

Firi’s expressions were almost always subtle. Ashe kind of prided herself in being able to read them so accurately. More accurately than anyone else, now. She could see without a shadow of a doubt that Firi was worried about something, and that it wasn’t something in her control.

“Because it’s about Gregor.”

Ashe closed her eyes. They’d been avoiding talking about him. Not in the normal way people tended to avoid talking about loved ones who had recently died. No, they avoided talking about him because they both knew if either of them pushed the subject too far it would only lead to an argument.

“Right,” she said, looking Firi in the eyes again. “You don’t really have anyone else you can honestly talk about him with, though.”

“It’s just the rain.” Firi laid down, staring sideways at the closed window. Ashe almost smiled. It was so like Firi to wonder if he’d found shelter out there somewhere. It was so like Firi to hope.

* * *

Thog glared up at the heavy cloud cover. Under normal circumstances he’d have been inside hours ago, avoiding the heavy downpour that would’ve soaked him through in a second if it hadn’t been for the rainproof coat. These were not normal circumstances.

Normal circumstances had ended five days ago with a Night Fury and a shattered catapult.

So he waited in the storm, alone on the docks. The wind howled around the cliffs, tearing at his coat and making him shiver. It was made for keeping out the elements, but it wasn’t exactly a miracle. Still, he stayed. He’d managed to convince Markus to stay inside, the least he could do was be there to wait.

He wondered, briefly, if he was actually waiting for nothing. Moren surely couldn’t be reckless enough to try and sail through this kind of storm. He wasn’t the type to risk his safety just to get to his destination a little faster. Then again, if he was headed this way, it was because he’d received the message Markus had sent out. Thog honestly wasn’t sure what to expect. He knew that he personally if he were in Moren’s shoes would curse Thor several times over, but wouldn’t risk going further until the weather cleared.

Lightning flashed above him, followed almost immediately after by a thunderclap so loud it made his ears ring. He grit his teeth, pulling to coat tighter around himself, but he didn’t move.  
In the end, his patience paid off. A small ship came into view through the gloom and heavy rainfall. It was being jerked around on the water, but Thog trusted Moren to know what he was doing, even if he wouldn’t do the same.

The docking was chaotic. Moren hooked the aft rope onto a fastening on the docks and tied it with quick efficiency, but that was the end of things going to plan. The wind tugged at the ship, really more of a large boat, forcing Moren to cling to the side of the docks to stay in place.

Thog hurried to grab the fore rope and tie it tightly to a second fastening. Then it was the simple matter of securing the boat to withhold a storm. It was a routine thing to do, but with rain falling thickly and wind trying to push them about it was anything but simple. By the time they were done Thog wondered why he’d bothered to wear the coat at all, he was just as soaked as would’ve been if he hadn’t.

He extended his hand to Moren and helped him up onto the docks, steadying him as he got used to solid ground again. It likely wouldn’t have been that bad this time, considering he’d been on Berk with the trading ships less than a week ago, but combined with the wind it was still something to get used to.

“Are you ok?” Moren asked once they started the ascent towards the village proper.

“Hello to you, too,” Thog said. “And no I’m not fucking ok.”

“I’m sorry. He was a good kid.” Moren’s arm settled over Thog’s shoulders, giving him as much of a hug as he could while still making their way towards their destination.

“Yeah.” Thog almost couldn’t answer. It really wasn’t fair.

They reached Horaven’s door in silence and knocked. Markus yanked it open before Thog could even lower his hand and ushered them inside. Moren glanced at where Zalvetta lay bundled up in several furs and a red winter cloak.

“Horaven do you have any clothes that’d fit Thog?” Markus called further into the house once he was done assessing their condition. Moren hung his own more weather resistant coat by the door and went to sit down opposite Zalvetta in front of the fire.

“Check in the attic!” Came Horaven’s reply from the back of the house. Markus nodded and swiftly climbed the stairs into the small space that mostly served for storage. He returned a short while later with clothes that were approximately Thog’s size, though they were a little big on him.

Once everyone was dried off and decent Markus and Thog settled on either side of Moren, and Horaven went back to whatever he had been up to before Thog and Moren arrived.

“How’s everyone been holding up?” Moren asked. Thog sighed and Markus leaned closer. Outside the storm continued thundering on.

“Not well but what else can you expect,” Markus looked over the fire to where Zalvetta was sleeping. It seemed, for once, to be peaceful. That was probably a good sign.

Moren sighed, pulling him closer. “And as usual you’ve decided it’s your job to take care of everyone.”

“It literally is,” Markus’ voice had an undertone of mirth to it.

“It’s really not,” Thog countered. “If that’s anyone’s job description, which it isn’t, because taking care of everyone at once is impossible, it’d be Kyl’il, not you.”

“Details.” Markus waved a hand dismissively. Moren and Thog shared a fed up look.

“You deserve to get some rest, too, you know.” Moren looked at Markus.

“ _Thank you,_ ” Thog said, giving Markus an ‘I-told-you-so’ kind of look. Markus rolled his eyes but didn’t protest. There wasn’t really anything he could say to protest, anyway. He knew they were right, even though he didn’t intend to follow their advice.

* * *

Zalvetta woke to the sound of rain hammering down on the roof and someone snoring. It sounded like Horaven. He sat up slowly, shaking his head in an attempt to clear it.

“Feeling any better?”

He jumped at the familiar voice. Moren raised his hands with an apologetic look on his face. Zalvetta frowned. He did feel a little better, but that was hardly the main question at hand.

“Weren’t you here this month already?” he asked. His voice was hoarse but stronger. He couldn’t have been out that long. Moren sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, Markus got a message out to me. Told me what happened.”

Zalvetta’s hands tightened around Gregor’s cloak. He resisted the urge to curl into a ball and ignore world completely. Instead, he glanced around the house. There was no one there besides Moren and Horaven, who was still asleep.

“I’m sorry, kid, I should’ve gotten here sooner.”

Usually, he would’ve responded with a quip about how really, Moren wasn’t that much older than him. Instead, he stared down at his hands, twisted in the fabric of Gregor’s cloak. The necklace that hung safely around his neck settled in its place over his chest like a heavy weight.

An unnatural silence fell over them. Every sound seemed amplified to Zalvetta’s ears. The rain and the roll of thunder that seemed to shake the house, Horaven’s snoring, even the soft roar of the fire seemed too loud.

“I never told him.” When he finally broke the silence his voice was hollow, his eyes still fixed on his hands. Moren winced but didn’t say anything. Zalvetta wasn’t done yet, and Moren definitely didn’t want to interrupt him on this one.

“I never told him and now he’s-” the words died on his tongue and he raised his hands, burying his face in Gregor’s cloak. “Fuck. I can’t even say it like that helps anything. How pathetic is that?” Now that he was calmer, when a few days had passed, his ability to admit reality seemed to have fled. He hated it. All of it.

A pair of strong arms pulled him into a hug, stronger than Moren’s, belonging to a larger person. Neither one of them had noticed that Horaven had stopped snoring until he’d made his way over and sat down next to Zalvetta.

“It’s not,” Moren said simply. Zalvetta almost laughed.

“Right,” he muttered into the cloak.

“He is right.” Horaven gently patted his head and began a familiar rocking motion that sent a jolt through Zalvetta’s heart. He would’ve batted Horaven away, told him he wasn’t a child anymore, that he didn’t need to be comforted. Except, of course, that that was entirely untrue.

“I never even thought to thank him.” He stared up at the ceiling, putting more focus than he liked into keeping his voice steady.

Without Gregor who knew how long he’d have been struggling to put together the pieces of a puzzle that never seemed to fit. Thog wouldn’t have been his friend, neither would Ashe, for all that their friendship was still questionable at best. Moren would’ve been close to him regardless but would someone he usually only saw once a month really have been enough? With his habit of keeping all of his ideas to himself until he was absolutely certain of them, of not turning to others for help unless it was absolutely necessary, probably not.

“He can’t just be gone.”

Somewhere inside him the dam burst. Years of walled off emotions now coloured by grief and regret flooded him. He wanted to scream, or to cry, or to find and rip the heart out of the dragon that had dared to take Gregor away from them, from _him_. Instead, he just shook, his breathing harsh and ragged. He didn’t know who he was more angry at, the dragon or himself.

* * *

Kyrlos was starting to freeze, but he didn’t really care. There was something calming about standing there, on his doorstep with the door flung open in the face of the storm. Despite the rain beating down, despite the howling wind, the lightning, and the thunder rolling overhead. He let his eyes sweep over the village.

No lights were visible, no one but he himself would be fool enough to leave anything open during this kind of weather. Despite this, he knew that every house was filled with life. People, his people, going about their daily lives. Worrying about the next dragon raid, but not about whether or not the village would withstand it. They were Vikings, it was an occupational hazard.

They’d need a Chief after he was gone. He didn’t want to name a successor. That would feel too much like trying to replace Gregor. Naming a successor wouldn’t be fair to him, or to anyone Kyrlos might choose.

“Voting it is,” he said to the air. When he was gone, whether that be from a death on the battlefield or the slow decline of age or any number of other reasons, the village would need to step up. He could trust them to do that.

_What if people insist?_ For a moment his thoughts sounded almost like Zeke. He frowned up at the cloud cover. He could technically claim he’d used up his chance to choose an heir when he adopted Gregor. His son, yet not related to him by blood. Following the letter of the law, that should have made him a chosen heir rather than the heir apparent.

Kyrlos grit his teeth. He couldn’t do that. In no universe would he ever be able to do that. The village shouldn't have a problem with voting for who would lead them. They’d done it before, most recently with Kyrlos’ own mother. It would be fine.

_You’re catastrophizing._ He sighed. With one last look over the village, he stepped back into his house and closed the door against the storm.

* * *

Things could be worse, Gregor decided as he stared into the bright, flickering fire. Buddy protecting him and his little fire from the elements with his wings wasn’t even close to being protected by four walls and a roof, but it was enough. It had to be. The wind still seemed to pierce through him, chilling him to the bone, but at least he was dry.

“It could be worse,” he said aloud, looking up at Buddy from where he sat, curled up and pressing his back against the soft warmth radiating from Buddy’s skin. He didn’t get an answer, but then he was mostly talking to himself. A reminder that yes, things could be a whole lot worse. He could be dead. There were a dozen different ways he could’ve died, or been on a swift road to death already.

He could’ve landed badly, broken his neck in the fall. He could be dying of exposure or starving, or dragons could’ve been exactly what everyone thought of them and he’d have been dead the instant Buddy noticed him. When you cut right down to the core of it he could’ve just failed to get that life-saving hold on Buddy the night he’d shattered the catapult. He’d probably have fallen off the cliff, dashed to pieces by the harsh sea and the sharp rocks.

Buddy nudged him with his tail, breaking Gregor out of that morbid train of thought. Green eyes stared down at him, a curious concern shining from within them. Gregor tugged at a strand of his hair, turning his eyes to the fire again.

“You’re right, thinking like that’s probably not good for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To quote myself while I was writing this chapters: Zalvetta's still a murder child, he's just having a lot of feelings right now.


	6. Chapter VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zalvetta is frustrated, Thog suffers the consequences, and Gregor has an idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hi there. It's been. A while.
> 
> Sorry about that.

Gregor woke curled up against Buddy’s side. Inches from his face one large, dark wing stretched out over him, shielding him from the elements. He could sense the chill in the air, smelled the rain-soaked earth. He had, by some miracle, managed to sleep through the storm but it had left clear marks behind. 

As soon as he shifted Buddy withdrew his wing, letting a rush of chill air hit Gregor all at once, shocking any remaining drowsiness out of his system. Within the smell of nature after rain he could faintly detect the scent of burnt wood. When he looked up he found the source, one of the tall pines surrounding the dip had been struck by lightning. The top had fallen, splintered off and hollowed out by Thor’s fire, and what remained of the trunk was badly singed. 

“Guess it’s a good thing we’re down here,” Gregor said as he stretched. Carefully he let himself scan his physical condition. His shoulder hadn’t bothered him for a while. At a hopeful estimate, he’d say it was healed, or well on its way to being healed. His ankle was still sore but it felt like perhaps even that would fade soon. 

He turned his eyes to the way out of the dip. With a little help from Buddy, he might be able to get up to it. He wasn’t quite sure his ankle would support him in the endeavour entirely on its own yet, but it might not need to. He glanced back at the sleeping dragon, then to the makeshift fishing spear. 

“Hey, Buddy.” Gregor nudged him gently. Buddy cracked open an eye to regard him with a sleepy curiosity. “Think you can help me with something?”

* * *

Zalvetta was frustrated, and angry, and frustrated again. He felt better. He  _ was _ better. He wanted out. Not because he particularly disliked the company, there was just too much of it. Too much caring, too much concern, too much everything. All he really had anymore was a slight cough, it shouldn’t be the end of the world if he just left the house for a bit.

“Just let me out.” He crossed his arms, not really caring that it made him look like a petulant child. Horaven shook his head.

“Markus said-”

“I know what Markus said, I was there!” Zalvetta groaned, throwing himself back down onto the fur bedding. A little dramatic, but he felt he’d earned it. He only had so much patience when it came to being cooped up inside. As soon as his brain had cleared up enough for him to be properly aware of himself again, he’d started itching to get out.

“How about you stay here until midday?” Moren suggested from his spot across the room. “I’ll have to OK it with Markus but that seems like a fair deal, no?” Zalvetta grumbled.

“Traders,” he muttered under his breath, but he couldn’t deny that half the day indoors was better than the full day. “Fine.” He settled back down, picking up the book he’d set aside and willing himself to focus on it for a few more hours. It was better than nothing, after all.

“Good.” Moren smiled as he stood up. On his way out he took the extra time to walk by Zalvetta and ruffle his hair, which Zalvetta responded to by batting away his hand and glaring. Moren just grinned and exited the house. Things felt almost normal for a second as the door clicked shut. Normal enough that Zalvetta could almost pretend it was midwinter, that Gregor had just loaned him his cloak again. 

He shook his head. That probably wasn’t healthy.

* * *

Markus frowned, leaning back against Kyr’s work desk. The heat of the forge pressed down on him from all sides, but he shrugged it off easily, he was used to it by now. Even the loud clanging from the other room as Dao worked on something new rolled off him like water off a duck. In all honesty, the smithy felt too quiet. He was used to Kyr talking his ear off about whatever he was trying to put together, used to tossing out suggestions for improvements on the projects they worked on together.

“Sorry I haven’t been around much,” he ventured. Kyr shook his head.

“No I get it, Zalvetta’s your patient you have to make sure he’s ok.” He turned his head slightly, offering Markus a reassuring smile that seemed somewhat hollow. “’Sides, Moren’s back now, too, and you don’t get to spend all that much time with him.” Markus sighed, placing a hand on Kyr’s shoulder.

“Yeah but you’re my best friend.” He pulled up a nearby chair. “Really, how have you been?” Kyr set down his tools.

“Weird.” He stared down at the table. “I haven’t really been ‘around’ either.” Markus nodded. He knew that feeling well. “I don’t think I can talk about him yet.”

“Oh no. I didn’t- Kyr I did not mean to make it sound like I was trying to get you to talk if you’re not ready to talk.” Markus placed extra emphasis on his words, willing his seriousness to be heard and understood.

“No worries!” Kyr shrugged. Markus leaned back, looking Kyr over briefly for any obvious signs of exhaustion. It was hardly a full check-up, but finding nothing too alarming was a relief none the less.

“Do you mind if I just sit here, though?”

“Would you?”

“Of course.”

As they lapsed into a companionable silence Markus became steadily more aware of the sounds around them. The fiery roar of the forge and Dao’s work largely overshadowed Kyr’s quieter tinkering, but from where Markus sat it could still be heard clearly. From what he could tell it looked like some kind of interlocking mechanism. He couldn’t for the life of him figure what it would be when it was done, but he admired the work all the same. 

A knock at the door made them look up. Kyr called for whoever it was to enter and Moren stepped in, looking somewhat apologetic. Immediately Markus made to get up but Moren held up a hand stopping him in his tracks.

“Zalvetta’s fine,” he assured them. “Restless and grumpy, but fine.” Markus settled back down with a slight laugh.

“That’s a good sign,” he said. “So what’s up?”

“I’ve been sent to negotiate his early release.” Moren leaned back against the wall, taking a quick inventory of everything in the smithy. “Thog said I could find you here.” Markus nodded thoughtfully.

“He can step out for a bit,” he said after a while. “The fresh air will probably be good for him, but keep an eye on that cough and get him back inside if it gets worse.” Moren nodded, giving Markus a tiny mock-salute before making his way across the room to Dao’s workshop. 

A second later the sound of Dao’s smithing stopped, replaced by quiet speech. Markus turned back to Kyr, and Kyr continued his work. He’d always had a head for how things could be made to function in ways no one else seemed to see. To watch him work again was a welcome reprieve from the past six days. 

The door opened again, without a knock this time, and Inien walked in. She glanced around, pausing briefly to note Markus’ presence, before settling down in the far right corner behind a barrel. Markus blinked but didn’t question it over-much.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” he said.

“Yeah, that was kinda what I was going for.” There was something in her voice that he didn’t like but he couldn’t quite place. He hummed a neutral tone, ending their exchange there and she disappeared back behind the barrel. 

* * *

Zalvetta took a deep breath, the scent of the rain-soaked earth hitting him like a comforting blanket. The sun was starting to peek out from behind the leftover cloud cover, sending its rays down onto the earth and making soft steam rise from the rocky cliffs. His eyes scanned the tree line before flickering back to where Thog was leaning against a wall, keeping an annoyingly close eye on him.

“Can you stop acting like I’m a prisoner?” he asked, sending Thog an absolutely withering stare which utterly failed to affect him in any way.

“Can you stop eyeing escape routes?” he countered.

“I want some time to myself, is that a crime?”

“No, but letting you go wandering back into the situation that got you sick in the first place is a definite one-way ticket onto both Markus and Moren’s shit lists, so here we fucking are.” Thog crossed his arms. Zalvetta had to concede the point. It almost made him feel a little guilty for what he did next. 

Almost. 

Zalvetta was a master of many things, moving with purpose without making it look like he was, was one of them. Patience was his friend, he took his time, moving in a semi-circle, making it seem like he was just enjoying his time out of doors until he found himself behind Thog. To his credit, Thog was still keeping an eye on him, but that wouldn’t help. 

Thog may have been top of his class, but he’d shared that class with only a few others, none of whom were Zalvetta. He barely had time to react before the hilt of one of Zalvetta’s seaxes struck him neatly in the back of the head. He went down like a puppet with cut strings. Zalvetta winced.

“Sorry about this,” he muttered as he dragged Thog’s unconscious body away to a slightly less conspicuous place. “If anyone tries to give you shit about it you can at least honestly say I overpowered you.” Having propped Thog up against the wall of an out-of-the-way shed he stood up and looked around. No one seemed to have noticed. 

He re-sheathed his seax and pulled Gregor’s cloak tighter around himself. It was too warm to be wearing it, but he didn’t care. He pulled up the hood and started a path towards the trees, ducking around corners and keeping out of the busy parts of the village. The bright visibility of the red cloak made him cringe internally, but he was skilled enough to keep himself hidden despite it. 

The eaves of the forest stretched high above him, blocking out the sky and casting a kind of warm shade over the ground. The familiar trees and undergrowth welcomed him in, the shining gold of the sun breaking through the trees casting everything in an almost otherworldly beauty. For the first time in nearly a week, though it felt more like a month, he breathed freely. 

Then he coughed. 

It was nothing like the harsh, painful things that had been forcefully pulling their way out of his throat for days, but it still broke something of the magic. Nearby a rustle in the bushes told him he’d startled some small forest creature, sending it scurrying away from the sudden noise. He shrugged and continued on his way. He didn’t have a particular goal in mind, content merely to roam for a while. He wouldn’t be gone from the village for too long. 

He chose his path consciously this time, his steps guiding him down lesser-used paths, places within the forest that he and Gregor hadn’t spent that much time in. Places with fewer memories tethered to them. Places he hadn’t seen in a while. 

The sound of birds in the trees around him called him deeper in, where the trees were taller and older and the underbrush was cut through only by natural animal paths. Vikings seldom traversed this part of the island. Zalvetta knew it enough not to get lost, more than most could boast of. 

He paused at a fork in the animal-paths he was following, observing the choices before him. On the right, a recently uprooted tree lay across the path. From the looks of it, it had probably fallen during the storm. Even without the storm, though, Zalvetta doubted it would have stayed up much longer. It was old and withered, bark scarred by flames in places. 

He turned to the left, where the path was at least for the moment free of obstruction. With a shrug, he turned to the right. The trunk of the tree was only about half as broad as he was tall, but it lay at an angle across the path, and he knew enough never to walk under a fallen tree, especially not one so low to the ground. He caught one of the sturdier looking branches to haul himself up, finding a foothold on another. Within moments he had climbed up an over the tree, landing with a muffled thud on the other side. 

In the distance he spotted a large boulder, sitting alone among the trees, overgrown with years of moss and other small, stubborn plants. A giant’s toss, they called it. It seemed more likely, to him, that a dragon had dropped it there some time long ago, but none of the dragons he knew of was large enough to have carried it.

A tree had grown so near the boulder its trunk had curved to accommodate it. He tilted his head to the side. It’s low-hanging branches made an easy sort of ladder to the top of the otherwise challenging boulder. The moss would rip and make him slip off if he tried to climb the thing itself.

It took only a few seconds for him to climb his way up to the top. He stood there for a moment, surveying the forest around him. Gregor’s cloak hung heavy about his shoulders, the thick material stifling after the exercise. He drew it closer around himself anyway. A gentle breeze wound its way through the trees, gently brushing past his face, not even strong enough to move his hair, braided as it was.

With a sigh, he closed his eyes and let himself relax.     

* * *

Gregor winced as he tumbled into the small tunnel leading out of the dip. He breathed out slowly, reaching down to undo the binding around his ankle. It hadn’t been the most graceful exit in the world, but he’d done it. Very soon he would be out in the forest proper. He could go home.

Down in the dip, Buddy whined. Gregor frowned, pausing in his task to look down. He found himself staring into a pair of large, sad eyes that seemed to burrow into his very soul.

“Don’t worry,” Gregor reached down as far as he could. “I’ll come back I promise.” Buddy stood on his hind legs, bumping his snout against Gregor’s palm. He whined again but seemed a little more secure. Gregor gently scratched his chin, making what he hoped was a soothing sound. It seemed to work. Buddy pulled back and shook himself off, giving Gregor one last look before he went to curl up on the other side of the dip.

“I won’t be gone long,” he promised again. He sat up again, focusing his attention on his ankle. He glanced at the binding, grimacing at the state of it. You could hardly even tell that it had once been part of his tunic anymore. “I really need a bath,” he muttered before re-binding his ankle. His grip on the fishing spear turned walking stick tightened as he pushed himself up onto his feet. His knees ached in protest, reminding him that he’d been moving around very unnaturally in his attempt to avoid agitating his ankle.

He took a moment to collect himself before pushing forwards. He wasn’t that far from the village, he could make it back on his own. He had to. He took a deep breath and stepped out of the tunnel, taking a moment to find the right direction.

He glanced up at the canopy above him, thick evergreen branches stretched out and wove together, letting streams of sunlight in as if through a thick blanket filled with holes. The air seemed heavier, now that he was in the forest proper. Older, somehow, yet not stale. This part of the forest was the oldest the island had, Gregor knew that much. Many of the trees had trunks as wide as or wider than Dao was broad.

Being that it was so ancient, it had changed precious little during Gregor’s life, infinitesimally small as his time was when compared to it. He smiled to himself as his eyes located the animal paths, faint but traceable in the underbrush. There wasn’t much, if any, human activity to speak of in this area.

He pushed himself onward, leaning on his walking stick as much as possible in the uneven terrain. In the distance, he could hear what sounded like a flock of Terrible Terrors squabbling over a meal and for a moment he tensed, eyes darting towards the source of the sound. The feeling of trained unease melted away after a second and he frowned. He shook his head slightly to clear it and pushed onwards, taking the trail he knew would lead him in the direction of the village.

It didn’t take long for him to realise he’d miscalculated. His ankle was in far worse condition than he’d thought, every clumsy step radiating pain up his entire leg. He stopped to lean against a nearby tree, glancing at the path behind him. He was too far away from the dip to safely make it back, but he wasn’t entirely sure he would actually be able to make it back to the village before nightfall. He took a deep breath, rolling his ankle experimentally and wincing as it made a painful crackling noise.

“It’ll do,” he whispered to himself. It had to. 

* * *

Zalvetta focused his breathing. With his eyes still closed, he let his other senses explore the forest. He felt the warm breeze on his cheeks, breathed in the ancient, living scent of the forest. Listened for the smallest rustle in the trees. He tried to sink into it and let the calm of the forest wash over him but found every little thing more distracting than the last.

An animal moving through the bushes would startle him, the creak of an old tree would make him open his eyes necessitating he start all over again. A woodpecker would drill ceaselessly into a nearby tree, shattering his concentration. He grit his teeth and forced himself to even out his breathing again-

A branch snapped.

“Oh come on!” he turned towards the source of the sound, expecting to find a startled deer or some other animal of comparable size. Words died in his throat, all frustration bleeding out of him in an instant, replaced by a tangle of emotions he couldn’t even begin to describe.

Gregor stood there, looking significantly worse for wear, steadying himself against what looked to be a hastily crafted spear. His hair was a tangled mess despite the braid, grass and forest debris clung to his clothes, the bottom of his tunic had been torn clean off. The deep circles under his eyes screamed his exhaustion to the world almost more so than the slight shaking Zalvetta could see in his limbs. He looked terrible, but Zalvetta’s eyes fixated on the steady rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathed.

For what seemed like an eternity neither of them spoke, staring at each other with vastly different levels of shock on their faces.

“What-?” Gregor began, but before he could even finish his thought Zalvetta had slid down the boulder and launched himself forwards. Gregor winced as they collided, but Zalvetta kept his feet firmly planted on the ground, drawing Gregor to himself.

“ _ How _ ?” he asked, voice muffled as he pressed his face into Gregor’s shoulder. Still, he could hear the slight rasp that lingered there and he frowned.

“Are you sick?” he asked. Zalvetta pulled away enough that Gregor could see his face again.

“Am I si- I thought you were  _ dead _ !” he said, hands tightening reflexively in their grip.

Gregor drew a breath through his teeth. “Yeah, ok, I guess that takes president.”

“I-” Zalvetta hesitated, biting his lower lip. His hands fell away from Gregor’s arms and he took a step back. Gregor frowned but kept his silence. He knew Zalvetta well enough to pick up the subtle way he played with his sleeves and the steadying breath he tried to hide.

“Gregor, I thought you were gone. And right now I don’t know if I’m relieved, or happy, or furious, or- or  _ what- _ ” he drew a shuddering breath and wiped hastily at his eyes, trying in vain to stop himself from crying. “But I know I never want to feel like I have these past few days ever again.” Gregor’s face pulled into a frown, his hand twitching towards Zalvetta for a second before he pulled back.

“No one can promise that,” he said quietly, eyes flitting around the forest, settling anywhere but on Zalvetta.

He shook his head. “That’s not what I- Dammit.” He gave up any presence of stopping his tears. “I love you!” Gregor’s attention snapped back to Zalvetta, his voice loud enough to send a slight echo through the trees. “I have for  _ years _ , and I  _ hated _ knowing that I’d never get to tell you.”

It was his turn to look away now, eyes shut against the gentle rejection he knew was coming. Yet somehow, even after all the years, they’d been friends, Gregor could still surprise him. He found himself drawn into a tight, warm, achingly familiar embrace. He could feel Gregor’s heartbeat against his palm, a little fast, but there.

“I love you, too,” he breathed. “I don’t know for how long, I don’t think I’m the best at listening to my own feelings-” Zalvetta laughed a shaky laugh- “but I do.” They stayed like that for a while, not speaking, each trying to wrap their head around recent events.

“What now?” Zalvetta asked once he felt steady enough to speak again.

“Now I guess… we’re dating? If you want that?”

“Obviously,” Zalvetta snorted. “I meant everything else.” He took a step back, looking Gregor over again. “You still haven’t told me how you’re  _ here _ . You fell off the cliff, how did you end up all the way out here?”

“Ooh...” a brief flash of guilt crossed Gregor’s face. “It’s a long story. I will tell you, just not right now. I kinda need to show you something first, but I’d really like to get home right now.” Zalvetta frowned but nodded.

“Yeah, the Chief-”

Gregor suddenly paled, clear worry settling over his features. “Is he ok? This is bad, I mean I kind of expected this but it’s only really hitting me now that everyone  _ actually _ thinks I’m dead-” Zalvetta caught his hands before he could start tugging at his hair.

“I… honestly don’t know?” he said, regret lacing through his tone. “I’ve been sick almost the entire time you’ve been gone. I know he showed up to visit me once, but I was asleep when that happened.” He gestured to the cloak he was wearing. Gregor blinked, looking at it for the first time with seeing eyes.

“That’s… mine. And way too warm to be wearing in this weather.” He cocked his head to the side. Zalvetta blushed, pulling up the hood to mutter something into it. Gregor made a questioning sound.

“I  _ said _ ‘can you blame me’. I thought you were dead, remem-” he fell abruptly silent as another train of thought collided with his current one and sent it careening off the tracks. “ _ Shit _ .”

“What?” Gregor looked around for anything that might have distracted him.

“Thog’s probably woken up by now.”

“ _ What? _ ”

“I had to knock him out to get into the forest,” Zalvetta shrugged as if that explained anything. Gregor just stared at him.

“Why?”

Zalvetta bit his lip. “I’m technically still convalescing?”

“Zalvetta!”

“I was bored!”

Gregor shook his head, though he couldn’t hide the smile on his face. “We need to get back to the village.” Zalvetta nodded, taking Gregor’s arm to steady him as they made their way back through the forest.

* * *

The sun was beginning to set when Kyrlos heard an unexpected knock at his door. He sighed and pushed himself to his feet. The knock sounded urgent but too quiet to be Dao and too soft to be Kyl’il. That realisation made him pause to grab his bow and quiver, just in case.

He pulled the door open, questions already on the tip of his tongue, but stopped short. His grip abruptly went slack, sending his bow clattering uselessly to the floor beside him as his world narrowed to the person on his doorstep. 

“My boy.” His voice came out in a hoarse whisper as he reached forwards, drawing Gregor closer and trying to assess his condition. 

“Hi, dad,” Gregor said, voice trembling slightly. “I missed you.” He blinked, trying to force back the tears. 

Kyrlos had to force down the lump in his own throat before he could speak again. “Where have you been?” He raised a hand to brush the stay hairs out of his son’s face, taking in every scratch and bruise, the wrapped ankle, the dark circles. None of it told any story he liked, but they were also not something his mind would fabricate. This was not a dream. 

“I’m so sorry,” Gregor’s voice cracked, the tears he’d been trying to hold back finally falling. “I couldn’t get back, I’m so, so sorry-” 

“No, hush, Gregor, it’s alright.” Kyrlos drew him close, holding him perhaps a little tighter than was advisable but neither of them even noticed. “You don’t have to tell me, not now, not ever if you don’t want to. You’re alive, that’s more than I ever hoped for.” He turned his head to press a kiss into Gregor’s hair. “Welcome home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually made myself cry with this one. Not just want to cry, actually cry.


End file.
